Unintended
by nmd529
Summary: The world has gone to hell, and Emma Rogers is just trying to survive with her sister, Lori, and her nephew Carl. She never thought she'd find love in such horrific conditions, but life's full of unintended surprises. Eventual Daryl/OC
1. Chapter One

**I only own Emma Rogers, everything else belongs the genius creators of the Walking Dead.**

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><p>"Oh, what the hell," I swore under my breath; I had been rudely awoken by my forehead slamming into the backseat window, making my entire head throb painfully. My eyes stayed closed, knowing that, if they opened, my older sister would be glaring at me for daring to say a terrible word like <em>hell <em>in front of her young son. "Sorry—it slipped," I said, eventually opening her eyes to see my sister's face soften.

"Is your head alright?" asked Lori Grimes, her hazel eyes filling with that motherly concern that was far too familiar.

"Just peachy," I replied, smiling tightly and shaking my head slightly. I turned to my 10-year-old nephew sitting beside me, whose eyes—the same as his father's, sterling blue—was gazing out the window, an occasional sniffle escaping him every couple of minutes. Frowning, I placed my hand on top of his head and pulled him close to me. "I know, Carl—I miss him too," I whispered, doing my best not to allow my voice to crack.

The person both I and my nephew were thinking about at the same moment was Rick Grimes, Carl's father and my brother-in-law. The "in-law" part of his title was simply a formality—Rick was my older brother, in my eyes, and I had been close with him as soon as he started dating my older sister, Lori. He had acted as though my blood ran through his veins and never let me down—much more than my deadbeat father had ever done for me.

Unfortunately, a couple weeks before this absolute hell had hit the world, Rick had been shot while in the line of duty—he was a police officer, you see—and forced into a coma. That was why I had left my home city of Boston and hopped on a plane to King County, Georgia: to take of my sister and nephew, and make sure they didn't have to lift a finger, not if I had anything to say about it. But then the world went to shit, in a nutshell, and my family and I had been forced to flee their home and head to Atlanta, where there was supposedly a refugee center. Their beloved Rick had lost his life in that coma in the chaos, and they had no choice but to leave his body behind. It hadn't been easy, but Lori had held herself together and forced Emma and Carl into a car and onto the road to Atlanta. Fortunately for all of us, we had someone else join us.

Rick's partner and best friend, Shane Walsh, had instantly latched onto our family as soon as Rick was injured, and was the one who had delivered the news of Rick's death. He had taken the wheel of that car, and had not moved since—that was, until they were forced to stop at the massive traffic jam on the highway, causing Shane to stop short and my head to slam into the window.

Carl now took in a shaky breath, his eyes closed and head leaning into my chest; his hand clenched , hot and sweaty. I didn't mind—I just squeezed tighter, and refused to let go.

"It looks like traffic's stopped for miles," said Shane now, breaking the silence. He was what you would expect from a Southern police officer—strong, tough, and handsome. I had even had a crush on Shane when I had just started college; fortunately, I had completely grown out of that phase. It was probably a good thing—I had heard of Shane's temper and reputation, and wanted nothing to do with either. "Sorry about before, Emma."

"Don't worry about it," I replied, giving him another brief smile in the rear view mirror. I looked around now, still holding my nephew's hand; the road ahead of us was filled with cars, and there were already about twenty vehicles filling in behind their car. Previous car passengers set up on the road, huddled into folding chairs and holding their group members tightly.

"What's going on?" asked Lori, concern flitting over her pretty face. Her dark hair was somewhat plastered to her face, thanks to this thick humidity.

"Not sure," said Shane, turning off the engine. "Stay here," he ordered us as he stepped out of the car. I frowned—I hated being ordered around; I wasn't a child. I was twenty-five years old, for God's sake!

Shane walked over to a family in the car in the left lane ahead of us; there were only three of them: a tall, burly man with a grumpy frown on his face, a small woman with short, graying hair and a soft face, and a young girl, maybe a couple years older than Carl. He talked to the man for a couple minutes, their voices sounding muffled from inside the car.

"How far are we from Atlanta from here?" I asked Lori; Carl continued to look out the window at the family and Shane interacting with each other.

"About five, ten minutes I'd say," she replied, not turning to me but, like her son, watching Shane. We were both thinking the same—all of this traffic was for nothing but that refugee center. To be blunt, it was not looking up for us, no matter what information Shane came back with.

Shane walked back the car, opening his door but not sliding in. "It looks like we'll be here for a while; there's a road block up ahead, not letting anyone through," he said, his eyes only on Lori's; mine were on her as well, hoping that she would not crack with this bad news. It seemed we were getting some with every corner we turned; it would be only natural for Lori to slip. She had stayed strong though; so far, at least.

"We might as well get out," I answered for Lori, who was thinking deeply and never letting her eyes leave Shane's. All three of my companions turned to me. "Well, it's better than being stuck in here; at least we can stretch our legs, you know?"

"She's right," said Lori now, nodding to herself. "Let's get out, get some fresh air, stretch our legs."

Carl and I unlatched our seatbelts and hopped out of the car; the air was thick with humidity and my long, thick, auburn hair was plastered to the back of my neck. I could already feel the sweat building under my arms just from the heat—it definitely wasn't like the weather in Boston, that was for sure. Fortunately, the sun had just disappeared under the horizon, so the temperature would slowly begin to dip as well. The highway we had stopped on had only two lanes filled with cars, as stated before, and was surrounded by dark woods; I crossed my bare arms nervously, hoping the monsters that had been described on the news for the past few days wouldn't come charging out of there.

"Aunt Emma?" Carl's voice from my left made me jump anxiously.

I turned to the boy, tall for his age and only less than six inches shorter than me, and his eyes were on the family that Shane had just talked to. My hand found the top of his head, tousling his thick black hair, and I said, "What's up, buddy?"

"That girl," he said, "do you think…do you think I could, you know…"

My eyebrows raised and I glanced between my nephew and the girl—she was pretty, with short, honey-blonde hair and wide blue eyes. A smirk twisted my features as I turned to my nephew. "Come on. I'll help you out," I grinned, gently pushing him forward to the family. They all had sad eyes taking over their expressions—but I guess that was what we all looked like, at the time. Losing hope in what to do to protect our families. "Uh, hi," I said a bit louder than I expected, making all three of them immediately turn their faces to me. "I'm Emma Rogers, and this is my nephew Carl Grimes," I continued, doing my best to lower my voice. "He just really wanted to talk to your daughter, and he's a bit shy, which is why he enlisted me to help him."

My voice abruptly died off when I felt the man's eyes on me—it made my skin crawl, and goosebumps form on my arms. The woman, however, didn't seem to notice my sudden discomfort; "It's very nice to meet you both," she said softly, her eyes full of gentility and kindness. "I'm Carol Peletier, and this is my daughter Sophia, and my husband Ed."

I smiled warmly at all three of them, despite my reservations for the only male, and nudged Carl in the back with my elbow. "Go on," I whispered to him. "Say hello."

"Hello," he said finally, his eyes wide as he looked at Sophia. Fortunately for him, she giggled quietly, and an embarrassed smile spread on his face. It was the icebreaker that everyone needed.

About forty-five minutes later, we were all in our designated spots: Shane was in the driver seat, fiddling with radio and trying to get a signal on the Emergency Broadcast System, Carl and Sophia sat in the back of Ed and Carol's hatchback, playing Checkers, while Carol watched, Lori and I sat on the hood of our own car and listened to both Shane fighting with the radio and Carl and Sophia battling, and, lastly, Ed stood away from all of us, doing what he seemed to do best—chain-smoking cigarettes. Helicopters continuously flew overhead but, thanks to the forest surrounding us, we could see nothing of the city, or what exactly was going on. It seemed that everyone was getting restless, pacing the roads and some even getting into small scuffles.

"I'm hungry," said Carl, making Lori and I both look up at him. I instantly berated myself for not remembering to pack some of the baked goods that I had made throughout my stay down South. It would have been perfect for the time.

"I know, Carl," said Lori, fingering her locket—a gift from Rick—as she sadly stared at her son. "We all are."

After a brief silence, Carol turned to us and said, "You know, why don't I get him something to eat? Ed's into all this survival stuff, we've got enough MREs to feed us a whole army."

"I'd sure appreciate it," said Lori, hopping off the hood of the car; I could already hear the stress slowly releasing from her voice. At least we had some good fortune thrown our way.

We both watched as Carol began to open the car door next to Ed, when he slammed it shut. Lori, recognizing a couple's spat, walked over to Shane. I, however, watched Ed and Carol closely, narrowing my eyes when I heard her say, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," as she walked away.

Lori had always said that my personality was strong and independent; being battered or put down was not something I put up with easily, and it had stuck with me ever since Lori and I had to deal with our father going on his drunken rampages and tearing his apart for hours on end. We had survived that hell, and it had made us both stronger in the end. And now, seeing Carol walk away from Ed in defeat, I just wanted to shake her and tell her to fight back—that men should never be given the opportunity to control their wives.

Shane got out of the car, making my attention turn back towards him and my sister. "I'm going to go up the road," he said, "see what I can see."

"I'm coming with you," said Lori immediately, not leaving his side. She glanced back towards me, sitting on the hood and my eyes never wavering from hers. "Can you watch—"

"Do you even have to ask?" I asked smartly, a confident smirk on my face.

That gentle smile that comforted me throughout my childhood flitted over her features, and she shook her head.

"I want to go," said Carl stubbornly, stepping up to his mother.

She shook her head no and kissed him gently on the forehead. Shane tousled his hair just as I did a bit ago and said, "Hey, we'll be back before you know it. Okay, little man?" Carl smiled and nodded, and then they were off to the front of the pack.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and watched Carl talk with Sophia and Carol. Ed had taken post smoking near the side of the car. "Your dad's nice," I heard Sophia say, making my shoulders unintentionally stiffen. I didn't have to see Carl's face to see his worried frown.

"Shane's not my dad," he replied quietly. "Dad's dead."

Before I could contemplate the coldness in his voice, an explosion came from the direction of the city. I was instantly on my feet and clutching Carl's shoulder, a silent reminder that I was still here, even though neither his father nor mother were. More helicopters passed above us, and my arm crept over his shoulder. "What was that?" Sophia asked breathlessly as her mother held her in her arms.

Carol and I exchanged flabbergasted glances, the same worry creasing both of our faces. Neither of us had answers. No one did.

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><p><strong>So this is my first "The Walking Dead" story. Let me know what you think of Emma, and my portrayal of the canon characters from the series. I tried to keep them as genuine as possible, but everyone knows how difficult that is. Feedback is much appreciated!<strong>


	2. Chapter Two

**So, here is the next chapter of "Unintended". Thank you all for the reviews! Please keep them coming, they really help me with my writing! (:**

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><p>About half an hour after they left, Shane and Lori returned to our group, both looking visibly shaken. Shane, fortunately, managed to conceal most of those lost emotions when Carl's wide blue eyes turned to him and he began to ask him various questions about what they had seen. Lori, however, did not have such luck—her eyes, wide and frightened—met mine, and she nearly collapsed into my arms. I knew it would come soon—all of this pressure, it had made her crack. Whatever she had seen up there, it had been bad. That much was obvious.<p>

"Lori," I said, gently putting her back on her feet and keeping a firm hold on one of her forearms, "what happened?"

"We got into the forest, and got a glimpse of the city," replied Lori, her voice slowly beginning to regain its strength. "They were…they were dropping bombs in the streets; we heard their screams…"

Her voice was beginning to trail off, and I shook her arm forcefully, not wanting her to completely breakdown, especially not in front of Carl. "Lori, come on," I said sharply, "come back to me."

"Emma, I don't know what to do," she said so sadly that my own heartbeat began to race anxiously. "There's nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn to—"

"What did Shane say?" I demanded; I was hoping that at least he had a plan. We couldn't stay out here on the highway forever, especially if they were dropping bombs in the streets only a few miles away. "Did he have a plan?"

Lori shook her head and replied, "He just said that we have to get off the road. But we don't have all that much supplies, and who knows how long we'd last out there—"

While Lori was talking, I heard a few other voices coming from an old, white and blue RV a couple feet from where we stood. "I need to get you both off the road, we've got enough provisions to last us for a while," a man was saying, his hair completely gray and protected by a white hat. He was speaking to two young women, one about my age and the other probably Lori's. Probably his daughters, I suspected.

"Lori?" I said quietly, motioning over to the RV. She glanced over and caught their conversation as well.

It seemed we weren't the only ones—Shane had stopped talking to Carl, and was looking directly at the group. "Carl," said Shane now, glancing over at our faces, "go stay with Emma, okay? Your mom and I have something we have to do."

Carl frowned, clearly not fond of being left out of all of the "secretive plans", but he obeyed. My young nephew leaned against the hood of the car beside me, watching as his mother and Shane approached the trio and, as it seemed, began to plead our case to them. Shane did the majority of the talking, occasionally motioning over to the two of us left behind. "What were those explosions before, Aunt Emma?" Carl asked worriedly, making me jump; I had been trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, and had completely forgotten about him.

"I'm not sure, Carl," I sighed, shaking my head and smiling down at him, trying to keep his spirits up. "No one's sure. But," I added, getting down on my knees and gazing directly into his bright blue eyes, "what I am sure of is that your mother, Shane, and I will do everything we can to make sure that you stay safe and sound. Don't you ever forget that, you hear?" I put my pinkie out to him, a childish tradition we had whenever we made promises to each other. Pinkie swears are, after all, binding.

He twisted his pinkie with mine, a small grin brimming on his face. "Yeah, I hear," replied Carl; I returned his grin and stood back up, tousling his hair in the process.

It seemed that the discussions between Shane and the older man had finished; they shook hands, the former looking satisfied, and then he and Lori returned to us. "We're going with them into the woods for now," said Lori. "Shane's going to announce that anyone can come with us, so we can pool our resources. It'll have to work for now," she added at my thoughtful expression.

"No, it's not that," I said quietly, glancing at the RV once more before glancing along the right side of the highway. Doubling back to the car and grabbing the map that Lori had been perusing through during the long drive, I opened it up on the hood of the car, tracing to where we stood now. Lori and Carl joined me, following my travelling fingers. "There's a trail here that opens up into a road, that will lead us to this…Bellwood Quarry." Shane and our three new companions were circled around the hood now, listening to me. "It should be safe," I added, looking between Shane and Lori, "and the perfect spot, being near a lake. It's a good water source, and it'll help us survive for a bit longer than if we didn't have one. And…" My fingers began to search for a pathway to the highway that we were stuck on, "it's only a half mile back. Just turn our cars or RVs—or anyone else's that wants to join us—and take that trail up."

"Emma," said Shane, looking rather impressed, "when the hell did you learn so much about survival?"

"Girl scouts, 4 years," I said, smirking slightly. "We're more than just selling cookies, you know."

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><p>My directions were, of course, correct. After Shane announced loudly that anyone could join us as we delve into the forest, we were joined by several other groups—I, however, was only introduced to only a few. Ed, Carol, and Sophia had joined our camp as well; it seemed that Ed had made the decision, while Carol and Sophia simply followed mutely. Nonetheless, Carl was thrilled to not have to say farewell to his newfound friend. The only other person I remembered easily was Glenn; he was a young man, Asian and a couple years younger than me probably, and as soon as I saw him wearing a t-shirt with Spock on it, I knew he had to be good guy.<p>

After we had swung all our cars around using the shoulder of the highway, we drove down the trail that I had found and headed up to Bellwood Quarry; it was bit of a bumpy ride at first, but it eventually smoothed out onto a paved road. Soon we arrived at the end of the road, only a brisk walk away from the lake. The clearing that we had come upon was spacious and as perfect as it would get for our patchwork camp. We set the RV up at the top, as a base of sorts, and set all of the tents that we pooled together—just enough for everyone to be crammed into—near the edge of the forest, away from the soon-to-arrive sharp sunlight.

It was about midnight when we were all finally situated; Lori, Carl, and I had finally finished piling our sleeping bags into our own tent, and we were all exhausted. Stretching my arms over my head and yawning, I caught a glimpse of the lake—a beautiful view, really—and felt my curiosity peaking. "I'm going to go for a walk before bed," I told Lori, touching my jeans pocket to make sure that my dying phone was still in there. "I'll be fine," I added to her concerned expression. "Really, I'll be back in fifteen minutes, probably. I just want to take a look around."

She hesitated, but my big sister finally nodded, still looking unhappy about my choice. "Just be careful, and if anything seems out of place, get back here, screaming bloody murder if you have to," she smiled, caressing my hair gently. I swear, you'd think the woman had two children, with the way she treated me.

"Alright Mom," I grinned cheekily up at her, and headed down the pathway before she could scold me for making her feel even older than me.

The roadway quickly began to turn into gravel as I made my way down to the lake. It was only about a ten-minute walk, which was perfect, seeing as how we'd probably use the lake for water and doing laundry. Their air was cooling down quickly as the night went on, making goosebumps form on my bare skin and a cold shiver to run through my body. Crickets chirped merrily, completely unaware of the fear that was rushing through the world at a hasty pace.

When I reached the shore, I was relieved to find that no one had taken our idea; who knows what would have happened if we had come upon a completely different group of people who didn't want to share this beautiful land. I crouched down close to the water, dipping my fingers and jumping at the chilly temperature. My hands cupped together and I splashed it on my face, washing away any dirt that I had acquired while working in the woods that night. The surface rippled rapidly, even after my hands quit disturbing it, and it took a couple minutes before it returned to the glassy texture from before. And, as I stared down at my reflection, I noticed I wasn't alone.

I spun around sharply, staring into the gruesome face that growled at me, it's teeth bared furiously. A scream ripped from my throat, unable to bottle up my fear. This was what had forced us to run from Lori's home, these feeding, frenzied creatures that took over innocent human beings. Call them zombie, roamers, walkers, whatever you want—they were killing people at every moment, rapidly lessening the population. And now I stood across from one, its eyes hungrily following my every move.

My feet hastily retreated from the monster, my eyes trying to locate something that I could use as a weapon. I spotted a thick, damp log on the ground, and clumsily picked it up as it stumbled towards me, its greedy hands reaching for my hair, my skin, my flesh. Without thinking twice, I raised the log and slammed it into the monster's head, ripping its neck so that it looked like someone had unsuccessfully tried to decapitate it. It fell to the ground, silent and unmoving.

Shallow breaths escaped my chest, as I distantly heard my sister yelling for me. I was a bit preoccupied though—the walker got to its feet, its head hanging lazily to the side. My limbs froze, unable to comprehend that its head was nearly ripped off, but _it was still alive. _It limped towards me, and I could do nothing—I was paralyzed.

An arrow suddenly shot forward and lodged itself into the walker's head, making it collapse onto the ground once more, this time hopefully dead. I gasped for air, and found my eyes roaming up and finding the eyes of my savior.

It was dark, so it was difficult to see him exactly; he was tall, though, close to a foot taller than myself. He was clad in a long-sleeve flannel shirt, jeans, and hunting boots, a black crossbow held tightly in his hands. His face was handsome, but I couldn't quite make out what made me believe this was so. As I gazed at him dumbly, he turned and began to walk back in the direction he probably came in.

My body unfroze, and I called for him to stop, but he didn't listen—he vanished as soon as I felt the flashlights beaming down on me. My sister and Shane bounded toward me, looking panicked; Shane had a gun in his hand, ready to shoot anything that moved. Without any reason as to why, I grasped the arrow sticking out of the walker's head and hid it behind my back before Lori reached me.

Her hands clutched my shoulders, looking directly into my eyes and demanding if I was alright. "I'm fine," I assured her; she didn't take my word for it though, and her eyes roamed over my body as she tried to determine if I had been injured. Shane was examining the body of the walker, kicking it with his boot before coming over to my sister and me, his hand patting me on the back gently. I could easily read the thoughts running through his mind, just by glancing at his face—this couldn't happen again, not if we wanted to stay alive.

As Lori wrapped her arms around my shoulder and we began to walk back to the camp, my eyes glanced towards the dark forest that the man had vanished into. I didn't tell them that he had saved me—for some reason, I wanted to keep that secret in my pocket, as long with the arrow that I was determined to return to him.

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><p><strong>Uh, I'm not too sure about this chapter, haha. What do you all think? Please review! Oh, and I wonder who her savior was? Haha, I hope it's a tad bit obvious…<strong>


	3. Chapter Three

**So, first off, I just want to say that the last episode of Walking Dead was completely epic! I'm not going to say what happened, in case some readers haven't been able to watch it yet, but it will blow your mind, I promise you. Anyways, thank you all of my reviews so far (: Here are my responses to them:**

**BellaLuz64: **Thank you! I'm going to follow the TV series as much as I can, since I like to keep most of my stories as canon as possible, but I'll be adding my own twists along the way, if that makes sense? Thanks again for the review!

**Dalonega Noquisi: **Haha, I know, there's going to be some age difference. Since they never actually state his age in the TV series though, I'm going to make Daryl about 38, so that puts about a 13 year age difference between the two, which isn't too bad. And believe me, I'd have him too, haha. I'm glad you liked Daryl's appearance. (: Thanks for the review!

**Davee: **Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it! (:

**XxXLIFEafterDEATHXxX: **Aw, thank you! I'm glad you think it's different—I'm always worried that it sounds like all of the other Daryl/OC stories out there, so I'm happy to see that it doesn't so far. Thanks for the review! (:

**85: **Ah, you got it! It was definitely Morales! (; The Dixon boys will be joining the group very soon, and believe me, Emma will have her own special opinion on Shane and Lori's "friendship". Thank you for the review!

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><p>My body jolted awake, visibly jumping as my eyes clamped open, my breath escaping my lips in ragged breaths. I sighed, trying to calm my racing heart; nightmares had been plaguing me all night, of Walkers chasing after me and my sister and nephew dying slowly in front of my eyes. Brushing away some stray tears on my cheeks, I glanced around the tent, rather relieved that it was empty. I didn't want Lori or Carl seeing me in a moment of weakness—they needed more than just Shane to stay strong.<p>

After pulling off my pajamas and changing into a pair of jeans and a pale green t-shirt, I stepped out of the tent and immediately found Lori and Carl sitting at a make-shift table from a black milk crate and working on math problems that Lori had remembered to bring back with her. They both immediately looked up as I approached them, and a warm smile appeared on Lori's face.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," said Carl cheekily; I rolled my eyes and tousled his hair roughly as I sat in a lawn chair beside him. "That wasn't necessary."

"Ah, but it was," I said, grinning smartly down at him. "Now get back your math problems, little one."

As Carl, grumbling the entire time, went back to work, Lori rolled her eyes, mumbling, "I swear, I have two children." Sensing my eyes on her, she asked me in her regular voice, "How are you feeling?" I shrugged my shoulders in response, tucking my bare feet underneath my bottom and leaning my chin onto my palm. "I heard you mumbling in your sleep last night. You were tossing and turning up a storm."

"It was just a nightmare," I shook my head. "Don't worry about me, Lori; I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

Lori got that motherly look in her eye as she reached over and held my shoulder. "It doesn't matter if you're 60 years old—I will always worry about you," she said strongly.

A smile appeared on my face, despite my desire to appear strong, and I clutched her hand tightly, silently giving her my thanks. "Did any more of those…things show up?" I asked, unable to come up with a name to call those monsters. It just didn't seem real, even when I tried to speak of them aloud.

"No," Lori replied, glancing over at her young son to make sure he kept working. "Shane kept watch all night, but nothing came near here. He still wants to keep a watch though, just to be on the safe side." She glanced over at my wandering eyes, and added "If you're looking for him, he went off with Jim to scout the area, to make sure that we are actually alone up here."

My green eyes found her hazel ones, surprised; when had I told her about the man who had saved me? But then I realized she thought I was looking for Shane, not the man. I nodded vaguely, biting my bottom lip as I scanned the camp once more, hoping that maybe he had joined us later that night. I was wrong, of course—there was no sign of him.

I had kept the story of how my mystery savior had rescued me to myself; perhaps it was because I wasn't even sure of what had happened, not clearly enough to where I could explain it to anyone else. It had seemed as if he had appeared out of thin air, and vanished just as quickly. Shane and Lori hadn't even found the arrow that I had tucked away into my jeans; it was hidden between the wall of the tent and the bottom of my sleeping bag. I had twirled it in my fingers all night, my only proof that I wasn't insane, and that I hadn't imagined him.

Turning to my nephew, who was biting his bottom lip as I had just been before as he tried to work his problems, I asked him, "How's it going, buddy? Need any help?"

"Yeah," he said with annoyance in his voice. He pointed to the problem, a long division that was particularly tricky. "I messed something up, I just don't know what."

"Just retrace your steps, all the way back to…here," I said, immediately finding his mistake and pointing out where it had happened. "It's like a puzzle—you have all the pieces, you just need to see how they all fit."

I was what you would call a math wizard. It had been my best class throughout grade school and college, and I was constantly besting my colleagues with my work. It made for a terrible time as a child though—kids really could be cruel, especially when you were smarter than them, and they knew it.

Just as I was about to ask Lori about how she slept the night before, my voice failed me. Shane and Jim—a tall, lanky, dark-haired man who was rather quiet—appeared from the woods, accompanied by two other men. The first was of average height, stocky, and probably in his late 40s; he had numerous tattoos on his arms, which were bare under his sleeveless, gray shirt. His hair was a buzz cut, and he had a harsh, arrogant look on his face, as if everyone around him was just dirt on his boots.

It was his younger companion, though, that startled me so. He was only a couple of inches taller than the previous man, but he was more slender, and yet just as muscular. His face was handsome, with sharp features and almost cat-like, intense eyes. His garb was plain—a long-sleeved flannel shirt, dark jeans, and hiking boots, along with a black crossbow slung over his shoulder as he carried his supplies. My breath caught in my throat at the sight—_it was him_. I wasn't crazy after all; he was real and standing only a few yards away from me.

"Morning," said Shane as he approached us, pulling me out of my amazement. I looked up at him, unable to do anything but smile up at him. I was still in shock. "How are you feeling?"

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I replied, "I'll live. Who…who are those men you came back with?"

Shane glanced back at the two men who were now situating themselves a distance from the rest of our camp, but close enough to where they clearly had joined us. His eyes were distrusting as they turned back to my determined ones. "That would be Merle and Daryl Dixon. Jim and I found them out in the woods; it took us a while, but we convinced them to join our camp. It seemed like the safer bet than alienating them," he added at Lori's concerned expression. "If we started fighting over resources, it could get ugly fast."

"Can they be trusted?" asked Lori suspiciously, also noticing my odd behavior and frowning at me.

"While I may disagree with their…morals," said Shane, "they should be good assets. They can hunt, been doing it their whole lives. We won't have a problem."

Lori nodded, but I was no longer listening anymore. The younger one, Daryl, was steadfastly avoiding my gaze, even though I was desperate for his eyes to meet mine, to see if he had recognized me. Sighing in frustration, I went back to the tent and retrieved the arrow that I had hidden. It was no longer stained with the blood from the Walker, but the feathers were ruffled slightly from when I had brushed my fingers through them during the night. Taking in a deep breath, I left the tent and approached Daryl, whose back was turned to me.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice surprisingly steady; I felt oddly shaky for some reason. Daryl's shoulders stiffened, but he turned around, his dark blue eyes narrowed down at me. His companion, Merle, was watching me with a disturbing smirk on his face. Gathering as much courage as I could, I held the arrow out to him, I said, "I believe this is yours."

He glanced down at it before gently taking it from me, careful to avoid his fingers from touching mine. "Thanks," said Daryl before turning back to his work.

Rather annoyed at his uninterested behavior, I persisted by adding, "I'm Emma, by the way." He turned around once more, annoyance in his eyes as well. "You saved me the night before? You shot that Walker that was attacking me? You…you do remember, right?"

"Of course I do," Daryl replied, his voice thick with a Southern accent that I was still taking time to get used to down here. "You were the dumb ass who almost got herself killed by not paying attention."

My body stiffened at his bluntness, and my temper immediately began to flare. "I _did not _almost get myself killed!" I snapped, my fingers now curling into fists. "I was doing quite alright, thank you very much. If you recall correctly, I nearly took his head off with that log—"

"Nearly doesn't cut it," shot back Daryl, his own eyes looking more than annoyed now. "You have to stick something into their heads if you want to kill them. Which I did while you were freezing up."

"I_ was not_—"

"Is there a reason you came over here?" Daryl cut me off. "Or are you just going to talk my ear off with lies?"

My cheeks began to burn, and my lips curled as I said through gritted teeth, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me. Apparently, though, that is such a hassle for you, so I'll just say thank you and go."

"Oh, please don't," said Daryl sarcastically, before turning away from me, mumbling under his breath.

"'You're welcome' would have sufficed," I snarled at his back before spinning on my heel and practically stomping over to my sister, nephew, and Shane, who had, of course, all watched my exchange with my newfound "friend". "I see what you mean about their morals," I mumbled to Shane as I sat back down in a huff, crossing one leg over the other and doing my best to stop my hands from trembling.

Shane smirked slightly at my absolute fury and said, "They're not exactly the most stand-up characters, but they'll have to stay for now." Noticing my frustration had not vanished, he added, "Just be careful around them, Emma, okay? For my and Lori's sake, at least."

I raised my eyebrows at him, but he had a protective look in his eyes, forcing me to sigh and allow the anger to ease away. "Of course, Shane," I replied, smiling tightly up at him. "You don't have anything to worry about—I'd rather not even socialize with them, period."

And so, after my first meeting with Daryl, I was left in irritation and anger, at his complete lack of social skills and empathy. If only I had kept my word to Shane and stayed away from him—life would have been so much easier.

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><p>Dinner that night was hardly what you would call a culinary creation; Merle and Daryl had only been able to scavenge a few squirrels, so after roasting them on over an open flame, they went into some canned beans that one of the other families had packed away. I suppose, since I had gone to culinary school for two years, I was a tad bit picky when it came to my food. Knowing that no one would listen if I did complain, I just took the bowl that was handed to me and ate it silently.<p>

Shane, Lori, Carl, Jim, Glenn, Dale, Amy, and Andrea (the last three were the old man and his two younger companions that we had met on the road before) as well as myself sat around our small fire, along with a few other people that I had not yet been introduced to. There was only occasional conversation, so I did what I did best—I pulled out an old copy of "Wuthering Heights" that I always had packed away in case of an emergency and began reading as I ate. It had been one of my favorite books in high school; my copy had been read so many times, some of the pages were even beginning to fall out from the binding.

Andrea suddenly said my name, making me leave Cathy and Heathcliff behind as I looked up at the older woman in surprise. She was about Lori's age, maybe a couple years younger, and had thick, golden blonde hair that was tied back into a tight ponytail. Her younger sister, Amy, looked just like her, really. "Emma, you do know it's rude to read while you eat at the dinner table," said Andrea now, a teasing glint in her green eyes.

Lori shook her head, chuckling as she added, "Emma's been doing that since she was a little girl; drove us insane whenever she would crack open a book whenever we tried to talk to her."

"Talk to me?" I repeated, turning back to my novel. "More like prattle on about high school drama while I tried to get a little culture in my life."

Lori snorted in reply, and I shot her a mock glare, causing a couple of laughs to circle through our group and the mood to lighten a tad bit. Just as I was about to return to the Moors surrounding Wuthering Heights, I noticed another pair of eyes on me—who else but the jerk who had infuriated me that morning, the one and only Daryl Dixon.

He and Merle were sitting at their own small fire, already finished eating; Merle was cleaning his hunting rifle while Daryl was lounging as he fiddled with his crossbow. His dark blue eyes were watching me closely, to the point that I even felt myself begin to blush from the unwanted attention. Shaking my head, I handed by bowl to Carl for him to finish and told Lori that I was going to bed.

Bidding everyone goodnight, I made my way down to our tent, only to find that I was not alone; Ed was smoking near his tent, only a few yards from our own. His eyes immediately followed me as I entered the clearing; the cigarette made me want to gag, but I held in my breath as I gave him a weak smile before turning back to the tent.

"Hey," he called out quietly as I went to pass him. "What you doing?"

I froze, already dreading this conversation. Ed was hardly someone I wanted to be caught alone in the dark with. "Just going to get some sleep," I said lowly, creeping towards the tent every couple of seconds as I tried to swerve around him.

It didn't work well—he followed me, and was just steps away from me now. He had a look in his eye that I didn't trust, not at all. "It's a bit early for that, don't you think?" asked Ed. "Why don't you stay out here, talk for a bit? Give you something to do."

"Uh, no thanks," I couldn't help but grimace at him as I turned. Suddenly his hand was on my shoulder, spinning me back towards him.

Before he could lay another hand on me, though, a hand clasped his shoulder strongly, shoving him backwards and away from me. "Why don't you take a walk?" snarled Daryl at Ed, sneering at the older man as he stood between us, blocking me from Ed's vision.

Ed eyed Daryl's crossbow with a sneer of his own, before muttering darkly to himself and turning to walk back up to dinner, leaving Daryl and myself alone. Letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in, I broke the silence with, "Thanks for that."

"Yeah, no problem," Daryl replied gruffly, his dark blue eyes meeting my bright green ones briefly before he glanced away. "You sure do attract a lot of trouble, don't you?"

My shoulders went up and down in a shrug; "Guess I do," I said quietly. Realizing that his tent was a good distance from mine in the other direction, I couldn't help but ask, "Why did you follow me?"

Daryl didn't even deny it. "I figured you'd get into some sort of trouble, going off by yourself," he said, a trace of annoyance creeping into his voice. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"Why do you care?" I probed sharply; it was an honest question, wasn't it? He had acted as though he thought nothing of me that morning before, and here he was again, helping me once more.

Daryl couldn't even meet my eyes this time. He looked around, trying to find something to capture his attention, away from me. "I don't," he finally snapped before beginning to follow Ed's path back up to the RV.

Shaking my head in confusion, I unzipped the tent and was about to duck my head in when I heard Daryl call out to me once more: "Be careful around that guy, you hear?" he said to me, his eyes now boring into mine. A chill ran through me from his intensity. I nodded in response, and he vanished, leaving me with more unanswered questions. It was becoming a terrible habit of his.

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><p><strong>So, what do you all think? Please leave a review and let me know! I hope Daryl sounded canon enough, I'm always worried that I'm going to butcher his character completely. He's just so hard to write as. Thanks for reading, and send me a review! <strong>


	4. Chapter Four

**I officially have far too much muse for this story. I'm afraid that last night's episode has completely jump-started my muse, so get ready for a good amount of chapters in a short amount of time for this story, as long as college doesn't hold me back ): Anyways, thank you all for the lovely reviews, it makes me so happy to see that you all liked it so far! I was especially thrilled that so many of you liked Daryl, because I'll be honest, I was really worried about him. But, as always, here are my responses to them:**

**velvetemr73: **Thank you, I'm glad you like it, because it's going to gradually become even more dramatic as it begins to catch up with the TV series. And haha, yes, Daryl is definitely a prick most of the time. But he does have his good moments too, it just takes a little while to find them (: I'm glad you like Emma too, I'm trying to make her as realistic as possible, since I see so many characters on here who are either Mary-sues or completely ridiculous. I just want Emma to be normal, you know? Thanks for the lovely review!

**BellaLuz64: **Haha, good, I'm glad that you think that, I was really worried about that (: And don't worry, I'll definitely put his defensiveness into the upcoming chapters, including this one. Thanks for the review!

**XxXLIFEafterDEATHXxX: **Me neither! He's a complete scumbag, with the way he treated Carol and Sophia. I'm not sure which one is worse, Ed or Merle. And haha, thanks; there's just something about Emma that draws Daryl to her, and it really bothers him, since he's never met anyone that does that to him. Emma's reactions to both will be very interesting, I promise. Hopefully you'll enjoy them both! Thank you for the review! (:

**Dalonega Noquisi: **Haha, thank you; I had to give him some redeeming moments, or else Emma would want nothing to do him. She saw how he saved her that first night, so she knows now that he isn't as bad as he makes himself out to be, and that's why she is going to keep trying to get through to him. And, lol, she'll be coming up more often later on in the story. I'm not sure how I'm going to have her relationship with Daryl be yet, I'll wait until this season to see what happens. I'm honestly hoping that they'll kill Carol off, since she's _so _annoying. She's my least favorite character on that whole show. Thanks for the review! (:

**Nymphchild: **Lol, no, Emma is definitely not like that. She's not as independent as Emma, because she's not as mature, but she's not as weak as Carol and Lori, who depend on the men all the time. Emma can defend herself if she has to, and she won't cower behind someone in fear. I have seen that a lot in fanfiction too, especially with Daryl/OC stories. I just can't see him having patience with someone who isn't self-sufficient and can't even take care of themselves. Anyways, thank you for the lovely review!

**Corbsxx: **Thanks for the review! (:

**85: **Haha, that it is. And I see what you mean. If Daryl was a baby who blubbered all the time, I'm pretty sure that would butcher him. But, believe me, I could never do that, especially not in this story. Emma would want to kill him after five seconds of knowing him, haha. And you are correct, that will not be the last encounter (: Also expect one between Emma and Merle as well. Thanks for the review!

**Aristanae1864: **Good, I'm glad you like it so far! And I totally agree with you. He's a complete coward, only willing to fight those who won't be able to stand up against them. Thank you for the lovely review! (:

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><p>The next day was sunny and hot, causing everyone to immediately begin to sweat as soon as the sun's rays bore down on them. It caused irritation, exhaustion, and some rather pungent body odors in our camp, but I tried to keep my spirits up, or else I would surely lose my mind out in this desert hell. Just to keep cool, I offered to go down to the lake with Amy to do a quick batch of laundry. In one day, we had gone through so many clothes, so we figured it would be best to just get it done and over with. Carol had brought a couple of scrubbing boards along with her, so we took those and about four crates full of clothes—we had gone around the camp and requested everyone's dirty clothes, which was a rather awkward business—stuck them in Lori's car, and drove down to the lake. Shane had insisted that we bring someone with us, just in case one of those Walkers showed up, so Jim and his trusty baseball bat came along for the ride.<p>

Soon Amy and I were sitting on the shore of the lake, our pants rolled up to our knees as he scrubbed away at the dirty laundry. Jim stood a distance away near the car, keeping watch. "Don't you just love doing laundry?" Amy asked me sarcastically, and I couldn't help but grin and laugh in response.

Amy was just a couple years younger than me, so she had automatically latched onto me as soon as we were introduced, just happy to have a companion her age and who wasn't her sister. I honestly enjoyed her company as well, since she was a nice and fairly down-to-Earth girl. We had done our best to complete our chores together, giving us a chance to talk and get to know one another even more. "You were a senior in college, you know, before everything happened, right?" I asked her as I finished scrubbing someone's t-shirt and threw it into the clean laundry crate.

"Yep," replied Amy, damp strands of golden hair stubbornly sticking to her face. "Georgia State University. I was about to get my bachelor's in early childhood education before the world went to shit. What about you?"

"I graduated when I was 21," I said, smiling slightly at her shocked expression. "I know, I get that a lot—I went to college a year early, so I could put as much distance between home and me. My dad put me and Lori through absolute hell, and after she moved out, I made it my number one priority to get out of there as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry," said Amy sincerely, but I shook my head at her, smiling slightly.

"Don't be," I replied. "I got my degree in baking and became a success, while my father drank himself away until his death, may he burn in hell. I couldn't be happier; unless, you know, something saves the world from these damn Walkers. Then I'm pretty sure I'd be a tad bit happier."

Amy laughed, and we continued on washing clothes. We were about three quarters of the way done when, with sweat dripping down both of our backs, the blonde turned to me and asked, "What's the story between Shane and Lori? They aren't…together, are they?"

"What?" I exclaimed, flabbergasted by her question. "No, no; Shane and Lori's husband, Rick, were on the police force together. Rick went into a coma a few weeks before everything happened, and he was gone before we could even try to save him. Shane's been taking care of us all ever since. He's more like Rick's brother than anything else."

"Yeah," said Amy, turning back to the laundry, "but they're alone up here, scared, the world ending. Anything could happen, even if it was the strangest thing in the world to you and me."

"Believe me, nothing would ever happen between those two," I said strongly. "It'd just be too weird, you know?"

"Okay," Amy mumbled, clearly just saying this to please me.

Sighing in frustration, I took some of the water and splashed it on my face, feeling myself finally beginning to cool off. "I sure as hell didn't miss this heat," I said as I swept my hair up into a loose bun. "At least in Boston, the hottest it got was 80 degrees, and that was the hottest day of the year."

"But you have those damn blizzards up there too," Amy added.

I groaned, shaking my head. "Screw it—there's no such thing as perfect weather. It all sucks."

We both laughed, and the tension was lifted from us. But I kept what Amy had said in the back of mind to consider; the possibility that something could happen between Shane and Lori. It just didn't seem realistic, in my mind—but it didn't really matter what I thought, did it? All that was important was what was running through their minds, and that I would never know.

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><p>It was nighttime once more, and the air had finally cooled down; the wind had picked up, and the air could even be described as chilly. Living in Boston for the past eight years, I had grown used to the cold, so this weather was perfect for me to just curl up near the dim firelight and crack open my book. That's exactly what I was doing; my long, red hair was swept up into a loose ponytail as I curled my legs into my body and furiously flipped through the pages. I was determined to get to the end before my eyelids could be held open no more, but it seemed that could be just false hope.<p>

As I glanced away from the small type and yellowing pages to sweep a loose piece of hair behind my ear, I found that I was not the only one who could not sleep. Daryl lay on the dirt ground near his own dim fire, his arms crossed behind his head as his eyes were on…me. Shaking my head, sure that I was just imaging it, I turned back to my novel, but the words seemed impossible to read now. A sigh of frustration escaped my lips, and I closed the book, staring at the plain cover and trying to sort out my confused thoughts. Finally making a decision, I got to my feet and walked back to my tent, leaving my book there and retrieving something else—a spare blanket that I had remembered to pack just before we had bolted from Lori's home.

Returning to the clearing, I tentatively approached Daryl, whose eyes did not leave me, even when I gazed daringly right back at him. His brother was asleep, occasionally releasing a loud snore that could shake the ground underneath my feet. Daryl sat up on his elbows as I finally came to stand in front of him, and raised his eyebrows as I held the neatly folded blanket to him. "What's that?" he asked me, looking rather skeptical.

"A blanket," I said, keeping my arm outstretched until he would actually reach up and grab the blanket. "You cover up and keep warm with it, use it for security from the monsters under your bed?"

A smirk fluttered over his features, enough to where I felt some tension leave my body; it all completely vanished when he took the blanket from my grasp, and laid it down beside him. "Can't sleep?" he asked, glancing behind me at the tent that held my sister and nephew.

"Nope," I replied, tucking my hands into my jean pockets and rocking back and forth on my heels. "You?"

"Sure doesn't look like it," Daryl smirked again, fully this time and unafraid of hiding it.

"Well," I started, tucking a stray piece of my red hair behind my ear anxiously, "since neither of us can sleep, you want to go on a walk with me? It could help you sleep."

"Doubt it," he replied, but he surprised me: Daryl got to his feet, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. "But I'm sure you'll get into some trouble, so I might as well make sure that you don't get yourself killed."

Rolling my eyes, I shot a "Thanks for the confidence" before beginning to walk down the road alongside of him. As the only sounds that came from us were the gravel crunching underneath our feet, I took a breath and told him, "You know, I'm not completely useless. I can defend myself fairly well."

"I'll believe it when I see it," said Daryl, shooting me a cocky smirk. "I still stand by the fact that you're a magnet for trouble—"

"I am not!" I exclaimed, getting rather frustrated that he was so sure of this fact. "Nothing bad has happened to me or you yet, right? So clearly your theory is wrong."

"Yeah, well, the night's still young," Daryl said. "Anything can happen, especially with you." Sighing in frustration, I shook my head at his stubbornness and we continued to walk down the road, in the direction of the lake. "You were some lawyer, weren't you?" Daryl asked, making me glance up at him in surprise. "With the way you argue, you have to be."

"Ah, wrong again, Dixon," I replied, my turn now to smirk happily up at him. "I happened to be a baker; best job in the world, really. Or, it was."

"A baker?" repeated Daryl, his eyebrows raised high.

I scoffed in mock offense and said, "Don't judge. What did you do before? Wait, let me guess. A…mechanic?"

It was Daryl's turn to look mildly shocked. "How'd you know that?" he demanded.

Let's just say that Daryl wasn't the only one who was rather staggered. "A lucky guess?" I offered with a shy grin. "I've seen the way you take care of that bike of yours, and I just figured that you have to know a lot about cars and stuff to do that. What can I say? I'm a genius."

Daryl scoffed, and I shot him a quick glare. "Just so you know, that ain't my bike. It's Merle's."

"Ah," I began, "well, whoever's it is, it's a nice bike. It's British, right? A Bonneville, I'm guessing."

"Damn," said Daryl, astonishment written all over his face. "You sure put me in my place. I wouldn't peg you for a bike lover."

"What can I say?" I grinned, happy that he at least had one good thought about me. "I'm just full of surprises."

I didn't notice Daryl's eyes roam up and down, from the top of my head to my toes, but I did hear him mutter, "Bet you are."

Feeling my face flush, I did my best to act like I hadn't heard him. "Come on," I said warmly to him, gently taking ahold of his muscular arm and turning him around in the other direction before letting him go. "We should probably head back, or else it'll be morning by the time we get back."

My companion nodded, and we began to walk back to camp. And thus, it was the first time I had actually found Daryl Dixon to be likable, and not the insufferable prick that I had assumed he was. It was the beginning of something I didn't completely understand, of something that I would never fully be able to comprehend. But, as I said good night to Daryl, leaving him behind as I made my way back to the tent and I could feel his eyes never parting from my back, I wasn't afraid. Quite conversely, I was ready to embrace the unknown of what was to come with open arms.

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><p><strong>So, what do you all think? I'm not sure if I like this chapter as much as I did the last one, but it opens up a lot for the upcoming chapters, such as Shane and Lori getting together, and Emma's budding "friendship" with Daryl. As always, let me know what you think by leaving me a review! Thanks for reading!<strong>


	5. Chapter Five

**Wow, I just want to say thank you to all of the readers who have shown great interest in my story. I've seen so many "story alert" emails in the past two days, it's becoming odd not to see one pop up all the time. I'm so happy that you all seem to enjoy this story so much, and I have to keep asking you to review the chapters, and give me your feedback, so I can make any changes if I have to. Thanks again for all of the reviews! As always, here are my responses:**

**Dalonega Noquisi: **Haha, yeah, Emma is more of a tomboy than anything else. She's far from a girly girl. The best way to describe her is a hard-working, down-to-earth woman who doesn't mind getting her hands dirty if she has to. I'm just trying to keep her as realistic as possible. I'm glad you like her so much! Thanks for the review! (:

**XxXLIFEafterDEATHXxX: **Yep, I wanted to put that little bit in since so many people were talking about how Emma would react to Lori and Shane getting together. So that will give you a sneak peek of what to come. And thanks, I love writing their little moments, I just love them together, even though they're so different. Thanks for the review!

**velvetemr73: **Good, I'm glad you liked it (: I figured that Daryl would be more open during the night, when Merle's not around. I've always felt that Merle brings out the worst in Daryl, that's why he's calmed down so much in the second season, since Merle hasn't returned (yet). And believe me, Emma will figure it out soon enough. Hopefully her reaction will live up to everyone's expectations, lol. Thanks for the lovely review! (:

**85**: Haha, good, I'm happy you loved it so much! Yeah, Daryl is definitely a hothead, but I'm not sure if he's as racist as Merle. I've never heard him say anything truly racist in the TV show, and he's even saved T-Dog's twice. But he definitely has a soft, sweet side, one that I really am excited to get into. But don't worry, it won't come out too easily—Daryl just hates having that side shown to anyone, haha. And I'm expecting Emma's reaction to Lori's "relationship" with Shane to be rather interesting. I hope that the last chapter gave some foreshadowing as to how it'll go. (: And, haha, I doubt they'll kill Lori off just yet, but it would definitely make the show really, really interesting. Thanks for the review!

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><p>The next morning, as soon as I stepped out of my tent, four baskets full of wet, clean laundry was thrown into my arms, with the orders from my dear sister to hang it up on the clothesline that had been set up the first morning. After sending some feigned sighs and glares at said sister, I approached the clothesline and slowly began to pin the clothes up. It was a tedious process, really—the stupid clothespins struggled to hold the heavy garments up, so they were constantly falling whenever I even brushed against the line.<p>

As a pair of jeans fell to the ground, I grumbled lightly to myself as I bent down to pick them up. As my back straightened, my eyes couldn't help but glance over at Daryl and Merle's tent. Their entire area was empty; there was no question as to where they were, of course. Every morning, before anyone else was awake, Merle and Daryl left to begin their hunt. Normally they just brought back squirrels or even the occasional rabbit, but they had discussed trying to track down a deer soon. Anything would be better than the canned beans that we had been stuck eating some nights, I couldn't help but think as I continued to hang clothes.

A small smile appeared on my face as I recalled last night's walk with Daryl. I had hoped that I had at least gotten through some of his barriers to show that I wasn't just some woman who was constantly in distress and had the personality of a teaspoon. I liked to believe that I had some layers, something within that was interesting. Hopefully Daryl at least saw that I wasn't completely one-dimensional. Shaking my head of these thoughts, I went back to the laundry, expecting nothing more of it to come up until he at least returned from the hunt.

Just as I was hanging up one of Lori's shirts, it was ripped down so ferociously that the material began to rip. Before I could berate the rough person for mishandling the clothes, the shirt was thrown harshly into my face. "What the hell?" I snarled, pulling the material away from my eyes so I could see the viciously furious Merle seething right before me. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_?" fumed Merle in his thick Southern accent; it was even harsher than Daryl's. "You've got a lot of balls, asking me that question."

"Merle," I started, taking the shirt and hanging it back up, my eyes glancing occasionally towards their tent, wondering where Daryl was if he wasn't with Merle, "I have no idea what you're talking about—"

"You don't?" the older man spat down at me. "How about I tell you a little story of how you've been fucking with my little brother's head, making him think…making him think—"

My temper began to flare as I snapped, "Making him think what? That he's not worthless, like you make him out to be? I'm sorry I actually put good thoughts in his head, instead of the poison you constantly spew out."

I had seen the way Merle would sometimes talk to Daryl, the way he was constantly putting him down. And Merle knew I wasn't far off with my words—that much was clear. He took a menacing step towards me, but I held my ground, my narrowed eyes never leaving his. "You listen closely, you stuck-up, spoiled bitch—you will not go near my little brother again, you hear?"

"Daryl is an adult, as am I," I said quietly, not budging. "As long as he doesn't mind my company, I will continue to go near him and socialize with him, even if you throw these temper tantrums every second of every day. It will never matter—get used to it."

I'm pretty sure the vein in Merle's forehead was about to explode; he grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I couldn't hold in the gasp of pain that slipped through my lips. "I am telling you now, don't do it, or I will make life so painful for you, you'll wish you were never born—"

Merle's hands were strong, and his grip was even stronger; my entire wrist was erupting in searing pain, and I tried to tug my wrist out of his grasp, but he just tightened it even more. I was completely unsure of whether or not I should punch him in the face with my other hand, or if that would just anger him even more. Fortunately, I didn't have to make that decision—Merle was ripped away from me and shoved up against a nearby tree by Shane, who looked livid.

"You pathetic, in-bred, white trash," sneered Shane, his hands trembling as he gripped Merle's collar. "If you ever put your hands on Emma again, I'll rip you apart, limb by limb."

Merle didn't even look phased as he sharply replied, "Take your hands off of me, you pig."

Shane glanced back at me briefly before pushing Merle away from him, snapping, "Remember what I said," and never allowing his eyes to leave the old redneck until he stalked away to his tent to lick his wounds. Shane turned to me and wordlessly picked up my wrist, which was already forming a dark purple bruise in the shape of Merle's hand. "I told you stay away from them," said Shane quietly as he continued to examine the damage.

"I know," I replied just as softly. "I'll be fine, Shane. Really, you have enough to worry about. Don't add my issues to those responsibilities too—just leave it alone."

Shane frowned down at me for a moment, dropping my wrist, clearly chewing on his words. Finally, he said, "I promised myself that I would protect you, Lori, and Carl—I promised Rick that. I can't just leave it alone, no matter what you say."

I smiled slightly up at Shane and gave his shoulder an appreciative squeeze. "If anything else comes up, I know who to go straight to, okay? I can promise you that."

Shane continued to frown, but nodded at my promise. For now, it was to be left alone—that much we agreed upon.

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><p>A week and a half had passed since we first arrived at the lake that late night. My life had changed swiftly and surely; for better or for worse, I still wasn't sure. Yes, almost the entire world's population had possibly turned into Walkers, and it seemed that civilization was ending. But life could have been so much worse—my sister and nephew were safe and alive, and I was able to spend every waking minute with them. I had even gained some new friends, people I probably never would have even approached if circumstances had changed.<p>

The most obvious one would have to be the one and only Daryl Dixon—we had come from completely different lives, worlds apart from one another. And yet fate had thrown all of us together, and caused something to blossom that was completely unexpected. I was unsure of what it really was—it probably wasn't even friendship, but just a mutual respect. It was too difficult to describe or label, even for myself. Ever since my confrontation with Merle (which I was still was not sure if Daryl knew about), I made sure to keep my conversations with Daryl brief; we would occasionally send teasing remarks to one another, and possibly there was even some surprises thrown in there—such as when Daryl had commented on how I was constantly biting my lip when I was thinking deeply, a habit that I had barely even noticed until then. It seemed Daryl was more observant than even I realized; who knows if this was a good or bad development.

Another friendship that was now blooming was between me and the Asian boy that I had met that first night, Glenn. He was a couple of years younger than Amy and me, but we got along just as well. He was sweet and kind, and just a tad bit goofy. We would constantly debate on science fiction topics (such as who was better, Kirk or Picard) for hours on end, leaving everyone rolling their eyes and demanding that we leave it alone. Amy and I had also continued to grow close; she was a woman that I would have probably befriended even if we had met during college or work. She was kind as well, but strong-headed and stubborn. Amy was exceptionally similar to her sister, in both looks and personality, that much was obvious.

Speaking of Amy's sister, Andrea and I were simply acquaintances. We had a mutual respect for one another, but we could not chat like Amy and I did. But she seemed to appreciate the fact that I had given Amy a new companion, someone to enjoy this new life with, so we respected one another. Andrea had come to befriend Lori, Carol, and Jacqui—a warm-hearted, African American woman—who formed their own tight-knit group. Amy and I were on the outside, so we stuck together as much as possible.

Thanks to the large amount of people we had in our group, we were already beginning to run low on our supplies, to the point where we had the possibility of running out completely by the end of that week. So, we all agreed that we would send a group into Atlanta using one of the vehicles to gather supplies and come back. The group members were soon decided; Andrea, Jacqui, Morales, Glen, T-Dog (a large, African American man who had proved to a helpful member of our camp), and, to everyone's surprise, Merle were all a part of this group. I suspected that Shane had "pushed" Merle into going, but I had no proof that such an occurrence had happened.

After the group had left early that morning, I glanced over to Daryl, who was now slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and beginning to head off into the woods. Taking a deep breath, I followed Daryl into the forest; I was startled to find him leaning against a tree, his dark blue eyes completely unsurprised at the sight of me. "You would be a terrible hunter," said Daryl at my puzzled expression. "You make more noise just by walking than anyone I've ever met."

I frowned, rolling my eyes as I approached him. "You'll be alright, hunting on your own?" I allowed myself to ask him; I was sure of his reaction, even before he gave it. Daryl would scoff and roll his own eyes, sure that I was insane for asking such a stupid question.

"What do you really want, Emma?" asked Daryl, pulling himself away from the tree and standing right in front of me.

I immediately began to bite my lip, immediately aware of it as soon as it started; it was all Daryl's fault, reminding me that I did it whenever I thought deeply. "You don't have to worry about Merle," I finally said. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

Daryl shook his head before turning away from me, his face hidden so that I couldn't read his emotions. "Of course he will," replied Daryl gruffly. "Why would I have to worry?"

"Daryl—"

"No, Emma," he cut me off, his intense, dark blue eyes bearing down into mine. "Just leave it alone, okay? God, you're annoying as hell sometimes."

I tried to ignore the slight pang in my heart as he stalked off, shaking his head and muttering darkly to himself. Shaking my head, I returned to Lori and Carl, who were sitting near the RV, going over some of their daily math problems. As soon as my nephew laid eyes upon me, he begged for some help; I couldn't help but grin and agree. Working with the numbers and the answers that were always right or wrong—there was no in between—helped me get my mind away from the concern I had for Daryl. If only I could work on math problems all the time—life would have been so much easier.

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><p><strong>So, what do you all think? Hope you all enjoyed it! Don't forget to leave me a review please! (: <strong>


	6. Chapter Six

**So, I'm curious what you all thought of the new Walking Dead episode? I honestly loved it, but there was so much that happened—I can't help but be confused. What did you all think? As always, thanks for the lovely reviews! Here's my responses:**

**85: **Haha, oh God, you don't want to see Emma hunting with Daryl. He'd kill her, probably, since she's not a natural hunter, and isn't exactly light of foot. But don't worry, they'll have some alone time soon, I promise! You just have to be a tad bit patient, because I want some stuff to happen before their friendship strengthens. And, haha, well, she's going to find out very soon, I can tell you that. Thanks for the review! (:

**Dalonega Noquisi: **Thank you! Hopefully you enjoy this one as well! (:

**velvetemr73: **Haha, well, I didn't want Daryl to swoop in there, so I can keep their (Merle and Daryl's) relationship as open as possible for my plot. But Shane did a fairly good job sticking up for Emma though. (: Thanks for the review!

**Alina Maxwell: **Aw, thank you! (:

**XxXLIFEafterDEATHXxX: **Oh, believe me, I don't either! Thanks for the review!

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><p>Ever since we had set up our camp that first night, Shane had made sure that we put the CB—a radio console that would pick up any signals—near the center of camp, in case anyone tried to contact us. Unfortunately, since Shane had set the radio up, we hadn't heard a single voice spew out words. It had been almost two weeks, and yet, while there was nothing, Shane refused to put that radio away. It seemed that radio was his way of keeping hope that there was someone else out there, besides us, that could save us from this terrible disaster.<p>

Before the mismatched group of Andrea, Merle, T-Dog, Glenn, Morales, and Jacqui left, Shane gave them a radio to take with them, just in case they ran into any trouble and needed to send us any messages. We were all praying that the radio would only crackle once, word coming from Andrea or Glenn saying that they were safe and sound, and on their way. But, that humid, sticky afternoon, the CB broke out in static, so suddenly that many of us jumped. Amy was the first to reach the CB first, with Dale closely behind her.

"Hello?" crackled the CB as Amy hastily picked up the receiver. "Hello? Can anybody hear my voice?"

"Hello?" Amy quickly responded; her hands were already beginning to tremble. "Yes, I can hear you—"

"Anybody reads, please respond," said the unfamiliar voice. "I'm broadcasting on the Emergency Channel. Will be approaching Atlanta from Highway 85. If anybody could read me, please respond."

At this, Lori and I immediately got to our feet, approaching the CB. We knew what was in Atlanta—nothing but Walkers, festering and searching for something to feed on. It was why we had decided to stay on the outskirts, in the forest—it kept us safe and secure from those Walkers who were left in the city.

"We're just outside the city," Amy was trying to tell the mystery voice, but it already seemed like it was useless—the voice continued to speak, filling the humid air along with the static. "Damn it," snapped Amy, trying to fiddle with the controls on the CB in vain. She turned back to Dale, looking completely at a loss.

"Keep trying," the older man said, and he turned to the approaching Shane, an ax in his hand. "Come on, son, you know how to work this thing."

Shane got down on a knee and took the receiver from Amy, saying, "Hello, hello? Is the person speaking still on the air?" All that resulted from this was more static. "This is Officer Shane Walsh broadcasting to a person unknown, please respond."

There was nothing.

Shane put down the receiver, softly saying, "He's gone," before getting back on his feet.

"There are others," said Lori, breaking the brief silence. "It's not just us."

"We knew there would be," replied Shane testily. "That's why we left the CB on, remember?"

My older sister refused to back away from the abruptly tense atmosphere. "And a lot of good it's been," she all but scoffed. "I've been saying for a week now, we need to put signs on up on 85, warning people away from the city."

"We haven't had time," said Shane, back on his feet now and beginning to walk away.

"Well, I think we need to make time," Lori countered, her hands on her hips now. I raised my eyebrows and continued to glance between the two, a frown playing on my face. There was something there that I had never noticed before, this tension that could be cut with a knife now.

"That's a luxury we can't afford," Shane sighed, his hazel eyes never leaving hers. "We are surviving here, we are day to day."

"And who the hell do you propose we send?" added Dale quietly, his knowing eyes taking in this scene as well. It seemed that everyone was—no one had left the center of our camp, their eyes turning from Shane to Lori in their battle of words.

"I'll go," said Lori immediately. "Just give me a vehicle."

"No, no one goes anywhere alone," Shane automatically shut her down. "You of all people know that." His eyes glanced towards me, and my frown deepened at the memory from that first night.

At Lori's downtrodden eyes, I quickly spoke up, saying, "She won't be alone." Everyone's eyes were instantly on me. "I'll go with her; it'll give us both something to do instead of being stuck around here, cooking and doing laundry." Without even thinking of it, I glanced over at Daryl's empty tent; it would also get my mind off of worrying about him.

"No," snapped Shane, turning his face away from the both of us briefly, hiding his emotions.

"And why not?" I shot back at him. "We're both adults—"

"It doesn't matter, Emma," the dark-haired man snarled at me. "It doesn't matter what age you are, those things out there will tear you to shreds. My number one priority," he added in a gentler voice, taking a step closer to Lori, Carl, and I, "is taking care of you three. That doesn't mean I can just let you go off on your own, unprotected. I refuse to."

My harsh frown softened somewhat at his protective tone, but Lori just rolled her eyes and stormed off towards the tent. Carl immediately went to follow her, but I clasped his shoulder gently. "Just let her be, love," I told him quietly. "She needs to speak to someone else right now," I added, my eyes immediately turning to Shane's. He hesitated before briefly nodding; soon he followed Lori to the tent, leaving our group to slowly disburse once more.

I tried to get Carl to sit back down, but he continued to pace back and forth, occasionally furiously glancing between the tent and me. After five minutes, I let out an annoyed sigh and snapped at him, "Oh, come on. Let me give you back to your mom before I lose my temper and strangle you."

Not even bothering to shoot a remark or even a grin back at me, Carl rushed forward to the tent, with me hurriedly following him. "Mom?" he called out, staying a couple of feet away from the entrance. I was right behind him, and immediately froze at the sight laid before me. Lori was pulling away swiftly from Shane, a frazzled and embarrassed expression emulating from her eyes. It was a look that I hadn't seen on her since she was in high school. Carl clearly didn't pick up on this—he was far too young to recognize the signs.

Shane gave the both of us a small grin before walking back to up to the RV, leaving Lori, Carl, and I alone. "Hey," weakly smiled Lori as she crouched down so that her eyes were level with Carl's. "I don't want you to worry, either of you," she said, her eyes briefly meeting mine before turning back to her son's. "Your mom's not going anywhere. Okay?" At Carl's smile and nod, she added, "Go finish your chores with Emma—"

"No," I cut her off firmly, my eyes never leaving hers. "You go on, buddy; I just need to talk to your mom for a second, and then I'll meet you up there, yeah?"

Carl nodded once more, glancing between the two of us with a confused expression before just shaking his head and heading back up to the RV as well. Smart move, I couldn't help but think with a sarcastic smirk as my eyes followed him. I turned back to my sister, who was apprehensively watching my every move. "Go ahead," said Lori finally, her head hung down in shame.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I snapped, unable to hold in my frustrations any longer.

"Don't use that language—"

"How dare you," I stopped her, taking a sharp step towards my older sister. "First off, I am twenty-five years old, I'll say whatever the hell I want to. Secondly, what is going through your mind right now? How can you even be…be thinking about doing what I saw you doing in that tent, with all the shit that is going on around here? Have you lost your mind?"

Lori instantly turned her eyes up to mine, filling with a defensive fire. "You have no right to sit there and judge me, Emma," she said thickly. "You have no idea what I've gone through, what I've had to do protect you and Carl; I've lost my husband, my life—"

"I lost my brother and my life," I shot back at her. "We all have lost someone, Lori—it doesn't justify going off and shacking up with the first guy you see nearly two weeks after you became a widow! Did you even care about Rick, or were you just waiting all this time for the opportune moment to screw his best friend—"

Lori's hand immediately came in contact with my cheek, the sharp slap resounding all around us. My head whipped to the side, my palm instantly cradling the side of my face. "Do not stand there and tell me that I never loved my husband," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "You know nothing of what a marriage is really like, of what goes into it."

With that, she began to stalk off towards the RV; my voice stopped her though. Standing there, still gingerly touching my burning cheek, I told her, "You're right, I don't know what a marriage is really like. But, I understand what is wrong—which is exactly what moving on two weeks after your husband dies with _his best friend _is." Lori spun on her heel, ready to retort, but she froze when I continued with, "Just remember this, Lori: a little more than two weeks ago, you were sitting by your husband's hospital bed, praying that he would come back to you and Carl. Now, you're willing to throw all of that love away, for what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

I managed to move my legs as I walked back to my nephew and companions, leaving my frozen sister there to stand all alone.

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><p>The next day was muggy and cloudy; it seemed that the skies were finally going to give in and allow some rain to come down and join the rest of us miserable people. Our camp was truly solemn that day. Carol had emerged from her tent with a fresh bruise on both her shoulder and wrist, causing my stomach to twist in anger. The bruises had been appearing numerous times in those two weeks, all coming from her coward of a husband. Unfortunately, Carol was in complete denial about her husband, refusing to acknowledge his constant stream of abuse to any of us. She just continued to walk through this newfound life, oblivious to the pain she was allowing to be caused to both herself and young daughter.<p>

To add to the lovely atmosphere of our camp, Lori and I were refusing to speak to one another. Lori's slap had left some reddening on my cheek, but fortunately there was no bruise to show for it. That would have released a slew of questions I didn't want to answer. The night before, I had grabbed my sleeping back and slept on the cool, hard ground, leaving my sister to explain to her son why I had chosen to sleep out in the elements instead of the cozy tent.

Getting through the day without Lori had proven to be a rather difficult task; it seemed that everywhere I turned, she was there, either frowning in my direction or laughing at something Shane or Carl was saying. When she had returned with Shane from berry picking with leaves tangled in her hair, I was sure I was going to throw up in fury. How could she just go on, ignorant of the trouble she was going to cause? I just knew it was a bad idea, but she refused to listen to me—what more could I have done?

Another concern that was weighing down on me was that it had been a day now, and Daryl had still not returned from his hunt. Normally he was back by the end of the day, and yet it had been 24 hours, and he was still gone. I tried not to worry about him, because I was sure it would have made him furious if he knew, but I couldn't help it. Daryl had become my friend, whether he liked it or not, and I worried about him. I just kept telling myself that I would feel better when he eventually returned, and this fiasco would be all over.

I spent most of the day with Amy, either doing the laundry or helping out around the camp. We basically discussed everything, including Andrea. I had done my best to divert her from worrying about her own sister, but it was an impossible task. She was constantly fretting over the small group's prolonged absence, and it only got worse when the CB once more came to life that afternoon. This time, though, it was T-Dog's voice that came through, barely decipherable as he told us that they were stuck in a department store, surrounded by Walkers. Amy had demanded that Shane go after them, but he refused, saying that they can't risk the manpower. This, of course, did not help her mood—she had stormed off in frustration. I couldn't help but scoff internally when it was Lori who went after her—as if she was the right person to be giving advice and encouragement.

It was close to sunset when a strange sound began to bounce off the forest surrounding us. From my seat besides Carol, I glanced over at Shane, who was instantly on his feet, rifle in hand. The concern was evident on his face, so strong that I also stood as well. "Talk to me, Dale!" yelled Shane as he rushed to the RV, where it's owner was standing, keeping watch with his trusty set of binoculars.

"Can't tell yet," said Dale, looking through said binoculars. As it got closer, I immediately recognized the sound—it was a car alarm. It had been two weeks since I had heard such a thing, so even that once-familiar sound seemed like anything but. "I'll be damned," I heard him mumble.

"What is it?" I demanded, Amy by my side now. It was so easy to see in her eyes, the hope that it was some sign that her sister was safe.

"A stolen car," said Dale, looking flabbergasted. And that's when I caught sight of the most beautiful car I had ever seen, pulling up to the RV.

It was a Dodge Challenger, fire engine red with black racing stripes. The engine sounded pristine, despite the loud alarm that continued to ring out, annoyingly ruining my first time experience with the gorgeous piece of machinery. And out of this car stepped a face I was thrilled to see—Glenn.

"Turn that damn thing off!" shouted Dale over the alarm.

Glenn put his hands up in the air, yelling back, "I don't know how!"

Shane told him to pop the hood, but Amy instantly distracted him by demanding to know if her sister was safe. With all of these people screaming at him, it seemed that Glenn's head was about to explode. To his credit though, he slid back into the car, yelling "Okay!" to everyone around him before opening up the hood. Shane instantly unhooked the battery, suspending all of us into an abruptly loud silence. "Yes," said Glenn, holding his hands up in surrender, "yeah, they're fine. They'll all fine. Well, uh, Merle, not so much."

My body froze, Shane's lecture failing to reach my ears. Something had happened to Merle? My eyes instantly found Daryl's tent, which continued to be empty. What was he going to do when he returned, if something bad had happened to Merle? It was sure to be nothing short of a disaster. Shaking myself from these thoughts, I heard another vehicle approaching our camp—a white moving truck. The passenger side door opened and the bed door opened; an emotional Amy rushed to embrace her sister, while Morales clutched his small family in his arms. T-Dog shook hands with Dale as Jacqui happily hugged Jim. Our group was finally together once more, allowing a breath to release from my lungs. The only one missing was Merle—an observation that I did not miss.

I noticed Lori pulling a crying Carl to the side, and my heart instantly broke; I considered going over there, despite my anger with Lori, to make sure that he was alright. But, before I could even take a step towards my sister and nephew, the driver's door of the truck opened, and time seemed to stop.

No, it couldn't be, was the only thought running through my mind as the man stepped into the sunlight. He was tall and slender, with thick dark hair and bright, sparkling blue eyes. These were the same eyes that I had seen many times before, either from the man or from his son. Rick Grimes stood in front of all of us, tears now springing to those eyes. Carl rushed toward his father, both man and son sobbing as they held one another. With Carl in his arms, Rick approached his wife, pulling her to him as well.

I stood to the side of the thrilled family, still unable to believe that this was truly happening. When Rick finally let go of his family, his glistening eyes fell on me. Amazement spread over his face, which wasn't too surprising—he had no idea that I had been down in George during his coma. "Well, well, well," I drawled, approaching him with a proud smirk on my face. "It seems that not even death can beat you, Mr. Grimes."

Rick laughed throatily, and he pulled me into his arms as well, his tight embrace making my heart warm happily. "It's good to see you too, Emma," he grinned down at me, ruffling my hair teasingly.

It was as if nothing had changed—as if we were not fighting against Walkers and struggling to survive in the wilderness. We could easily have been standing in Lori's old kitchen, laughing about the weather or work stories. And then, my eyes fell upon the pained face of Shane. His eyes never left Lori's face as she was embraced by Rick once more.

It seemed not everyone was thrilled by Rick's return.

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><p><strong>And, that's it for this chapter! I know, I know, Daryl didn't appear in this chapter, but he'll be more prevalent in the next chapter, I promise! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as well as Emma's reaction to Lori's "situation" with Shane. I know many of you were looking forward to that ;) Thanks again for reading, and don't forget to review!<strong>


	7. Chapter Seven

**I'm so excited for the season finale this Sunday, I just had to start writing this next chapter, haha. I'm so glad you all seemed to enjoy the last chapter, and, as promised, there will be a little bit more Daryl in this chapter. Thanks for all of your reviews! I'm so happy that you all are enjoying this story so much! Here's my responses, as always:**

**LadyLecter47: **Haha, well, you won't have to wait too much longer. ;) Thanks for the review!

**melody.85: **Let's just say that, if it was anybody else, Emma would have hit back. But her sister practically raised her, so Emma couldn't bring herself to fight her. She just chose to use her words to make Lori wake up and realize what she was doing was wrong. And, oh god, I assure you, I have thought a lot about what is going to happen in the CDC when they arrive there. Let's just say that there will be _a lot _that goes on in that CDC…thanks for the review! (:

**Dalonega Noquisi: **Haha, you're not the only one—I really missed working with Daryl's character. But we'll both get our fixes in this chapter. (: Thanks for the review!

**velvetemr73: **Yep, because Lori was sure that it wasn't any of Emma's business, and that this was her choice to make. And I'm really excited to bring Rick into this too, especially to write how he reacts when Daryl and Emma begin to get closer. Thanks for the review!

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><p>"Disoriented," said Rick, his light blue eyes back in that hospital bed as we all surrounded the dim fire for dinner under the starlight. He had Carl and Lori curled up into his arms, his grip keeping them as close as possible. The tight-knit family made it seem that it was impossible to be apart for even a little while. "I guess that comes closest. Disoriented. Fear. Confusion. All those things, but disoriented comes closest."<p>

I sat to Rick's right, putting some distance between myself and his wife. She had been steadfastly avoiding my eyes and presence ever since Rick had returned, and I didn't want to disturb her just yet. Anyways, I had my own problems to fuss over—Daryl still hadn't returned, and it had been officially two days now. He never had taken this long to come back to camp from his hunt; something had to be wrong. That was the only explanation. Even then, as Rick was telling us his story, I continuously glanced over at Daryl's still-empty tent, hoping that he would appear eventually.

"I felt like I'd been ripped out of my life, and been put somewhere else," Rick was saying when I turned back to him. "I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might never wake up from." Rick's voice died away, and I couldn't help but gaze up at his face, looking like he was about to leave us once more.

"Mom said you died," said Carl, his soft voice bringing Rick back.

Rick hesitated, glancing over at my sister for a brief moment, before replying, "She had every reason to believe that. Don't you ever doubt it."

We were suspended into silence once more; I glanced down at my sneakers, unable to comprehend it all. "When things started to get really bad," said Lori, making my eyes rip away from my shoes and back to her familiar hazel eyes, "they told me at the hospital that they were going to evacuate you and the other patients to a hospital in Atlanta. It never happened."

"Well, I'm not surprised, after Atlanta failed," Rick's voice returned to the conversation. "And from the look of that hospital, it got overrun, and looks don't deceive."

Shane, whose eyes had yet to leave the Rick's, spoke up briefly with, "I barely got them out."

"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane," said Rick. "I can't even begin to express it."

Shane said nothing more, just gruffly nodded before forcing himself to look away. I couldn't turn my eyes away from him though; while what he and Lori had been doing was clearly a stupid idea, I still held feelings of pity for Shane. It was so easy to see the feelings he held solely for Lori, even now as Rick wrapped her and his son in his arms. It was just painful, watching his sadness, even from a distance.

"There go those words, falling short again," said Dale, smiling ironically around the fire-pit. "Paltry things."

We fell into silence once more. My hand crept up to squeeze Rick's forearm, and he turned to smile in surprise down at me. "I thought you would still be in Boston," said Rick as my hand returned to my side.

"I hopped on a plane as soon as I found out about what happened," I explained, shrugging good-naturedly. "Figured the least I could do was help Lori out around the house while she was at the hospital with Carl and you. Turned out to be the best decision I ever made—who knows where I'd be if I wasn't down here with you guys."

That thought had crossed my mind many times before; what would have happened if I'd stayed in Boston, and all of this had happened up there? Would I be safe and sound, or would I be one of those Walkers, forever roaming the streets of Boston until someone put me out of my misery with a bullet to the head? It was an image that had haunted my dreams some nights, leaving me to wake in a cold sweat.

Sparks erupted from behind us, jarring me from my thoughts. We all glanced up to see Ed throwing a few more logs into his fire, brightening the flames. A frown played on my lips as Shane's eyes narrowed and said, "Hey, Ed, you want to rethink that log?"

"It's cold, man," drawled Ed, completely ignorant to the glares being thrown in his direction.

"Cold doesn't change the rules, does it?" said Shane, his voice steady but firm. "Keep our fires low, just the embers so we can't be seen from a distance, right?"

Ed, the fool, continued to be fight back, saying, "I said its cold. Just mind your own business for once."

My fingers curled into fists, and the scowl on my face only grew as Shane got to his feet and approached the bright, burning fire. "Ed," Shane began, his voice now dangerously quiet, "you sure you want to have this conversation right now?"

And this was where my dislike for Ed truly began to blossom into hate: he lazily gestured to Carol to put out the fire, who obediently followed orders. At the sight of someone who would stand up to him, he cowered like a blubbering baby, and yet he continued to act like a dictator to his family. Every time I saw Carol emerge in the mornings with bruises or gashes on her arms or face, I felt my heart twist painfully at the sight; it was even worse when I saw the way Ed would occasionally brush his arm over Sophia's shoulder, and give her a look that made chills run up and down my spine. I had tried to tell Lori and Shane about my suspicions, but they both told me that I had no proof about what was happening within the Peletier tent.

As soon as Shane returned to the group, Dale addressed the elephant in the room by saying, "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?"

My stomach squeezed, and I felt Lori's gaze on my face now. I refused to look up into her knowing eyes; I was still furious with her about the day before. While Lori had hardly approved of my interest in Daryl, she at least acknowledged that the following conversation was going to be difficult for me. It had already been occurring in my mind, haunting my thoughts throughout the end of the day. From what the group had told us, Merle had been absolutely impossible to work with from the very beginning. It wasn't until they were trapped in the department store, though, that he began to lose control of himself—he brutally beat T-Dog, and put the entire group at risk with his actions. It wasn't until Rick handcuffed him to a pipe on the roof that they were able to come together and devise a plan to escape the building. During the chaos, they had lost the key to Merle's handcuffs, and had no choice but to leave him behind on that roof.

It wasn't difficult to guess how Daryl would react when he learned of this news—he would be livid that his brother had been lost. While Merle was hardly a good brother, Daryl still cared for him dearly, although they both tried to ignore those feelings' existence.

"I'll tell him," said T-Dog now, forcing my eyes to his dark face, hidden in the dancing shadows. "I dropped the key, it's on me."

"I cuffed him," interrupted Rick. "That makes it mine—"

"Guys," Glenn spoke up, all eyes on him now, "it's not a competition. I don't mean to bring race into this, but…it might sound better coming from a white guy."

T-Dog stood pat though, replying, "I did what I did. Hell if I'm going to hide from it."

"We could lie," Amy suggested, her head resting on her older sister's shoulder.

"No," my voice crept into the conversation; everyone's eyes were on me, I could feel them, and yet mine never left the smoldering embers before me. "One lie can sprout another, and soon enough we'll be stuck in a web of our own deceit. We have to be honest with Daryl, tell him the truth."

"We tell the truth," agreed Andrea, nodding in my direction. "Merle was out of control, something had to be done or he would have gotten us killed." Turning to Lori, she added, "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's."

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" said Dale, looking around at all of us. His words startled me a bit; Daryl would never agree that Merle deserved to be left behind, even if he was acting like a mad man. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?" When none of us could find a way to respond, he continued, "Word to the wise, we're going to have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

After a brief silence, Glenn broke it, glancing at me and saying quietly, "Whoever tells Daryl, you should probably make sure that Emma's close by."

"Me?" I asked, frowning at him. "Why me?"

"If anyone can get through to him," replied Glenn, "it would be you. You're the only one out of all of us that he can actually stand, let alone be able to calm him down."

Shaking my head and finding myself blushing slightly, I told him honestly, "It's going to take more than me to do that, Glenn, especially after he hears about what happened. We're probably going to need a miracle."

T-Dog broke the ongoing silence by saying, "I was scared, and I ran. I'm not ashamed of it."

"We were all scared, we all ran," frowned Andrea. "What's your point?"

"I stopped long enough to chain that door," replied T-Dog. "Staircase is narrow, maybe half a dozen Geeks can squeeze against it at a time, but it's not enough to break through that. Not that chain, not that padlock. My point is Dixon's alive, and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us."

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><p>The next morning, Glenn and I stood in horror before the gorgeous Challenger that he had been able to drive back in. Dale, Jim, and Morales were stripping it down, piece by piece, trying to get as much as they could out of it. "Look at them," said Glenn dejectedly as Rick joined us. "Vultures. Go on, strip it clean."<p>

Dale smirked as he passed by, remarking, "Generators need every drop of fuel they can get. We got no power without it." He clapped both of our shoulders as he kept walking, adding, "Sorry guys."

"At least you got to drive it once," I told Glenn sadly, cringing dramatically as Jim began to pull some parts out of the engine. "I didn't even get that pleasure; it's completely unfair, if you ask me."

Rick, who looked like he was doing his best not to laugh at us, said, "Maybe we'll find another one someday," before heading over to say good morning to his wife.

"I call driving it first," I said immediately, grinning cheekily up at my friend. "It's only fair," I added as his mouth dropped open in anguish. "Get over it, dear. You better get used to women always winning."

Glenn just shook his head sadly and laughed along with me as we walked over to Shane's jeep; he had just returned with containers full of water from the lake, ready to be consumed. Just as I pulled a heavy container from the back, we all heard the screams, and shortly after that, my nephew's voice yelling for Lori.

Nothing else mattered anymore—we all jumped into action, running in the direction of the three distinct voices, straight into the thick woods. Most of the men held weapons, ranging from shotguns to baseball bats, ready to fight any danger that crossed their paths. Carl, Sophia, and Jacqui emerged in a clearing, looking petrified; Carl launched himself into Lori's arms, and my heart raced as I scanned over his body, making sure that he was uninjured. My hands clenched his shoulders and Lori embraced him tightly, neither of us willing to let him out of our sights again. Finally, there was something Lori and I could agree upon.

From where we stood, my eyes caught sight of Rick, Shane, Dale, Glenn, Jim, and Morales encircling a Walker who was dining on a dead deer. My feet slowly brought me to the circle of men, and there I found what had made my blood run cold—three distinctive arrows were sticking outside of the deer's behind. All that ran through my mind, while the men eventually began to beat the Walker with their instruments until Dale chopped its head off with an axe, was that something had happened to Daryl. My face paled and my stomach fell to the ground—something was wrong, I could feel it inside of me.

Suddenly, as the Walker lay motionless on the ground, the bushes surrounding the clearing began to rustle once more. The men steadied themselves, ready for to take on as many as they could, when a wonderfully familiar face emerged in the sunlight: Daryl Dixon.

I noticed Shane rolling his eyes just as Daryl caught sight of the deer that was previously being gnawed upon by the Walker. "Son of a bitch," snapped Daryl furiously. "That's my deer. Look at it, all gnawed on by filthy—" Daryl began to kick the Walker angrily with each word—"disease-bearing, motherless bastard."

"Calm down, son," said Dale steadily. "That's not helping."

Daryl, clearly in a bad temper, was instantly on Dale's face, snarling, "What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to On Golden Pond." He turned back to the deer, sighing and explaining as he pulled the arrows out of the dead animal, "Been tracking this deer for three miles. I was gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison."

I glanced over at Rick's face, fighting back a smirk at his rather dumbfounded expression.

Daryl, ignoring all of this, asked Shane, "What do you think? Maybe we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"

"Man, I would not risk that," replied Shane.

Sighing once more, Daryl got to his feet and said, "It's a damn shame. I got us some squirrel, about a dozen or so. That'll have to do."

Throughout these moments, I found that Daryl steadfastly avoided my eyes. I recalled the "argument" we had before he had left, and frowned up at him. Was he still upset about me making sure that he was alright? Surely he had gotten over it by now.

Before I could think on this anymore, the Walker's head began to twitch, the eyes and mouth opening with a loud gasp. "Come on people, what the hell," Daryl said, pointing his crossbow at the head and shooting it easily with an arrow, silencing the Walker once and for all. "It has to hit the brain. Don't you all know nothing?"

With that, Daryl began to walk back to camp, brusquely passing by me in the process. Feeling my cheeks flame in annoyance, I followed him back, ready to demand to know what was going on. Before I had the chance to, though, he yelled out for Merle, saying that he had gotten some squirrels. His words made me freeze—right now, I told myself, we had some more important problems to deal with than whatever it was that was going on between us.

"Hey, Daryl," called Shane, as the rest of us slowly returned to camp. "Slow up a bit, I need to talk to you."

We were all standing near the RV now in the hot, morning sunlight. Daryl stopped and turned around to face Rick and Shane, his eyes now glancing over to mine briefly before turning back to theirs. "About what?" he asked.

"About Merle," replied Shane, no longer holding his shotgun. "There was a, uh, problem in Atlanta."

Daryl began to look all around at the faces surrounding him, before his eyes fell on me. He must have seen something strange in them, because he instantly turned away, his expression now too difficult to read. "Is he dead?" Daryl asked gruffly.

It seemed that no one could come up with an answer until Rick said quietly, "We're not sure."

"He either is or he isn't," snapped Daryl, now facing my brother-in-law.

Rick eventually began to walk towards him, saying, "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it—"

"Who are you?" demanded Daryl, his eyes now narrowed distrustfully.

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes," he sneered, "you got something you want to tell me?"

Rick didn't back down, replying, "Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him on a rooftop to a piece of metal. He's still there."

The other man turned away, his face still unreadable as he replied heatedly, "So let me process this. You said you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?" At the end of that, his voice rose dangerously so.

"Yeah," said Rick quietly, obviously unable to come up with anymore words than that.

I saw it coming before Daryl even decided to make his move—he threw his string of dead squirrels at Rick before launching himself at the other man. Before he could reach him, though, Shane shoved his body into Daryl's, knocking him to the ground. My heart raced at what was happening before my eyes, but I couldn't find a way to force my legs to move. It was only when, while he was still on the ground, that Daryl pulled out a knife from his holster that I found myself able to move.

Without even thinking, as Daryl got to his feet, his knife in hand, I put myself in his path, stopping him dead in his tracks. "You don't want to do this," I told him quietly, his eyes never leaving mine as my palms pushed back lightly on his chest. "Please, don't do this."

Daryl eventually ripped himself from my gaze and threw his knife to the ground. I ignored the curious gaze thrown my way from Shane and Rick; my eyes stayed on Daryl's back as he furiously wiped the stubborn tears from his eyes.

"It's not Rick's fault," came T-Dog's voice as he stood by himself, away from the RV. "I had the key, I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?" retorted Daryl angrily.

"I dropped it down the drain," clarified T-Dog.

"If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't."

"Maybe this will," T-Dog continued. "Look, I chained the door to the roof, so the geeks couldn't at him, with a padlock."

"It's got to count for something," Rick offered.

Daryl just shook his head, his eyes on the ground as he said quietly, "Just tell me where he is, so I can get him."

Lori's voice entered the conversation, all of our eyes now on her as she said, "He'll show you. Isn't that right?"

Rick glanced back at Lori, and then me, and nodded, saying, "I'm going back."

My eyes found Daryl's once more, as he was walking back to his tent to gather his things, no doubt. They were still moist, the dark blue intense with anger and pain, and they seemed to look right through mine. It shoved a shock through my heart, and my eyes never left his as he left me behind.

It was eventually agreed upon—Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog would return to Atlanta to retrieve Merle. I could see the pain in Lori's eyes as she watched Rick explain to her why he had to go back—not only to find Merle, but to take back a bag of guns that he had left behind, along with a radio. This radio could connect with one that was held by the man and son that had saved Rick when he first emerged from the hospital, and, in Rick's mind, he owed it to them to find a way to inform them of the dangers held within Atlanta.

As Rick and T-Dog tried to retrieve a bolt cutter from Dale, I approached Daryl, who was impatiently pacing the floor of the moving truck the men were going to commute in. At the sight of me shyly standing here, he froze; sighing, he jumped down, and stood before me. Before he could demand to know what I wanted, I beat him to it, saying, "You'll take care of yourself, won't you?"

Daryl seemed to want to roll his eyes, but he held himself back. "I always do," he replied gruffly.

Biting my lip, I nodded, and glanced down nervously at my feet. I opened my mouth to say something else, anything, but just looking up in his eyes made me freeze up. Shaking my head, I began to walk away when Daryl snapped, "Emma, why do you care so damn much?"

Frowning, I turned back to him, only a couple steps away from the tall man. "What?" I asked him, still surprised by his question.

Daryl hesitated before saying, "You heard me—why do you give a damn about me?"

My feet found me a spot right in front of Daryl now, inches away from him. I bit my bottom lip, selecting my words carefully as I replied, "Because you're a good person, Daryl. I've known that ever since that night you saved my life. And although you can try as hard as you can to make everyone else believe differently, you can't change the way I think about you—the way that I care about you."

My heart was pounding in my chest, anxious of his reaction to what I had just told him. It was the closest I had ever come to revealing to anyone, even myself, of how I felt about him. It was frightening as hell, to be honest—to see the mixed emotions on his face, and being unable to read any of them. Finally allowing myself to take the initiative once more, I pressed my fingertips to my lips and tentatively placed them on his cheek, his skin rough from being unshaved. He winced slightly, but he never moved his head away from my fingers, not once. "Just come back soon, yeah?" I told him quietly, giving him a warm, sad smile before leaving him with Glenn and the truck, his eyes, so full of confusion, never leaving me.

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><p><strong>Yay, Daryl's back! :D Haha, I was so excited about writing this chapter, since I've really missed writing him. Anyways, what did you all think of the season finale? For me, it was awesome! Feel free to give me your thoughts and ideas in your reviews! Thank you all for reading, and don't forget to leave a review! <strong>


	8. Chapter Eight

**Wow, you all have no idea how thrilled I was with the amount of reviews I got for last chapter. I'm trying to keep updating this story every couple of days, but I'll just say I'm sorry in advance if it takes me a while sometimes. College is just so demanding, it's difficult trying to get to the computer all the time, you know? Anyways, thank you all for the wonderful reviews, they have really helped me with my progress on this story! As always, here are my responses:**

**LadyLecter47: **Well, let's just say that writing this story is what's getting me through until this fall (: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you're enjoying it so much so far!

**eloquent dreams: **This story is going to follow the TV series, but I'm going to try my best to not follow it so closely. You'll just have to bear with me through a couple of these chapters, because I do have to include some scenes from some of the episodes to advance the plot, you know? But thank you for the review. I promise, I'll do my best to keep it original and interesting (: Thanks again!

**Nekuranekomegami: **Thank you so much! (:

**JavaNut: **Haha, I'm glad you like them both so much. I was worried that Emma would come off as annoying or Mary-Sueish, so I'm trying to make her as realistic as possible. And there's no way I could make Daryl like he is in season 2 just yet, the character development would be all off. Not to mention I have a soft spot for writing him as a bad-ass (: Thanks for the review!

**Dalonega Noquisi: **Aw, thank you! I wasn't getting any emails either, Fanfiction must have been having some technical problems. It should be all sorted out now though, hopefully. Thanks for the review! (:

**GypsyWitchBaby: **Haha, yeah, they're definitely taking baby steps towards a relationship. I feel like Daryl would become completely out of character if he did move too fast, so that's why I'm trying to take it as slow as possible. Thank you for the review! (:

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><p>That day proved to be one of the hottest days of the almost three weeks that we had been living in the woods. When I say hottest, I mean it was practically 100degrees—so, no matter what, everyone in our camp was still sporting a shiny sheen of sweat, as well as a rather interesting odor. It all just made me want to close my eyes and daydream that I was sitting in my shower back home, absorbing as much water as possible and wiping away the grime that was stuck to my skin. It was a lovely dream, really—impossible, probably, but wonderful nonetheless.<p>

I did my best to keep myself occupied that late morning, so that my minds wouldn't wander to if Daryl and the others were safe. As long as my hands had the opportunity to work on something, anything, I'd be safe from those worrisome thoughts. At that moment, I decided to pick through some berries that Carl, Sophia, and Carol had picked earlier and throw away any poisonous ones; Carol had been smart enough to pack a book on poisonous plants and berries that could be found in the woods, so I had took the duty upon myself to use the book to make sure that the food we ate wasn't going to kill any of us.

So there I sat, the book propped up on a log as I sat on a milk crate in the cool shade, the silver bucket of berries between my legs. It was a surprisingly calming ritual, putting the berries into two separate buckets, one dangerous, the other safe. I expected no one to bother me, but I suppose that was a foolish prediction—my older sister took a seat beside me, her eyes so open that I could easily read every emotion running through her heart.

"What do you want, Lori?" I asked, briefly glancing up at her before turning to my work. We had yet to talk since our argument, and I hadn't exactly gotten over how she had acted towards me.

At first, Lori said nothing, just watching my movements silently. But then she suddenly said, "I'm sorry." My hands froze, and my eyes had no choice to meet her hazel ones. "I'm sorry for not listening to you before, and especially for hitting you. I don't know what I was thinking—"

"That's an easy one," I said snidely, beginning to go back to work. "You weren't thinking, period."

Lori's warm, soft hands suddenly held mine, stopping me once more. "Please, Emma, will you forgive me? I will get down on my knees and beg if you want."

I bit my lip, trying to figure out if I should really forgive her. She had treated me like a child, yes, but she was still my older sister, and I would always love her, even if she made the dumbest mistakes in the world. I couldn't help but laugh at her pleading eyes, and shook my head. "While that would be a wonderful sight," I told her, "it isn't necessary."

A relieved smile graced Lori's pretty face, and she squeezed my hands before letting them go. "I should have listened to you, Emma," she said sadly. "You were right, it was a stupid move on my part. And now I don't know what to tell Rick—"

"Wait," I cut her off, my eyes narrowing at her face. "What exactly did you do with Shane?"

Lori hesitated, and I didn't need to hear any more. My head shook, but I didn't tell her my thoughts that she was a complete fool—it was running through her mind as well.

"I just don't know what to do," said Lori, her eyes searching mine for the answers.

My eyes fell down to the berries in the bucket between my legs, a mix of safety and danger. "When Rick and the others come back, you just have to tell him the truth. If you keep this from him, it will eat you from the inside, Lori. You'll never be able to even look at Rick without thinking of it."

Lori frowned, clearly not thrilled with my advice. But, before she could respond anymore, Amy and Andrea entered the clearing, a long string of gleaming fish in each of their hands. A huge grin appeared on my face, unable to contain my excitement—finally, we would be able to eat something that wasn't from a can. "Oh, where have you been all my life?" I said to the two women, and Amy laughed.

They gave both of the strings to Morales, and he let out a hearty laugh. "Ladies," the man said, "because of you, my children will eat tonight."

Carl and Sophia rushed forward, enthralled at the sight of the bountiful amount of fish Amy and Andrea had caught. "Where'd you two learn to fish like that?" Lori asked, grinning as much as I was.

"Our dad," replied Amy proudly, sharing a secret smile with Andrea. It reminded me of my own sisterly bond with Lori.

Dale, who had vanished into the trees a few minutes before, reappeared, his eyes filled with unreadable emotions. Before I could wonder if everything was alright, Andrea called out teasingly to him, "Hey Dale! When's the last time you oiled those line reels? They were a disgrace."

Dale didn't respond right away, just stared down at the ground, clearly thinking hard. "Uh, guys," he finally said, looking up into our concerned faces, "I don't want to alarm anyone, but, we may have a bit of a problem."

He gestured up to a plant-infested hill, where, in the distance, I could just barely see Jim ferociously digging away at the ground. "What's he doing?" asked Amy, a confused frown twisting her pretty features.

"Digging," replied Dale, glancing over at Shane briefly before turning his eyes back to Jim. "He wouldn't say why when I tried to talk to him; he just kept…digging. He's been at it for hours."

Shane was clearly contemplating what to do, but, after glancing back at Lori, Carl, and me, he told us all, "Come on," before beginning to take a walk to where Jim had disappeared to. My sister, nephew, and I exchanged glances before moving to follow Shane, along with the rest of our group. We came to find Jim continuing to dig, not even glancing up at us; the holes were oval shaped, looking almost like…graves. My face paled at the sight, and I could just imagine how the others were reacting.

"Hey Jim," said Shane, breaking the silence that had filled the forest as we all just watched Jim furiously continuing to dig. When Jim still didn't respond, Shane continued, "Jim, why don't you hold up, just give me a second here?"

Jim finally stopped, sighing as he dug his shovel into the cool dirt one last time and leaning against it. "What do you want?" he asked casually.

"We're all just a little concerned, man, that's all," replied Shane, trying to keep his tone calm and steady as well.

"Dale said you've been out here for hours," added Morales.

Jim didn't respond at first, but eventually asked, "So?"

"So why are you digging?" When Jim stayed silent, Shane added somewhat jokingly, "What, you headed to China or something?"

"What does it matter?" said Jim, shrugging his shoulders loosely and going back to his work. "I'm not hurting anyone."

Dale refused to leave it at that; "Yeah," he replied, "except maybe yourself. It's a hundred degrees out here today. You can't keep this up."

Jim just ignored Dale, continuing to dig. Lori, realizing that the men weren't going to stop him, stepped forward and told him, "Jim, they're not going to say it, so I will. You're scaring people. You're scaring my son, and Carol's daughter."

The sweating man hesitated, and replied, "They've got nothing to be scared of. I mean, what the hell, people, I'm out here by myself, why don't you all just go and leave me the hell alone?"

Shane glanced back at everyone before saying, "We think you need to take a break, okay? Why don't you go get yourself some shade, some food? I'll tell you what, maybe, in a little bit, I'll come out here and help you myself?" Jim ignored him, continuing to dig away at those graves. "Jim, just tell me what this is about. Why don't you just go ahead and give me that shovel?"

Jim suddenly stopped, gazing at Shane challengingly and asking, "Or what?"

Shane furrowed his brow and replied, "There is no 'or what'. I'm coming to you and I'm asking you, please. I don't want to have to take it from you."

"And if I don't?" said Jim, continuing to have that strange look in his eye. "Then you gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier?" At this information, I glanced over at Carol in confusion. Yes, I had seen Ed's face, who hadn't? It had been beat so badly that it looked like someone had just ripped his entire face right off. But no one had said that Shane was the one who had done it—no one had ever given a reason, actually. "You all seen his face, right?" Jim yelled to the rest of us. "What's left of it, at least. Now, that's what happens when someone cross you."

"You weren't there," Amy suddenly called to him. "Ed was out of control—he was hurting his wife."

"That is their marriage, not his!" shouted Jim, his anger staggering all of a sudden. "He is not judge and jury. Who voted you King?"

Shane ignored this, telling him, "Jim, I'm not here to argue, alright? Just give me the shovel."

He began to walk towards Jim, his hand outreached, but Jim jerked away from him. In the blink of an eye, Jim swung the shovel at Shane's head, who dodged it and tackled him to the ground. He began to handcuff Jim's hands behind his back, while Jim continued to yell about Shane's lies. His voice ricocheted through the trees, until it was the only sound left throughout the forest.

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><p>Shane tied Jim up to a tree in the shade to help bring down his temperature. Soon, as time passed by the day began to fade into night, he came to his senses, calming his temper. He told us that he couldn't remember why he began to dig those graves, just that he had a dream about it the night before. After he was completely back to normal, Shane un-cuffed Jim and let him go. It was perfect timing, too—we were beginning to start cooking up the fish that Amy and Andrea had caught for dinner. I had even helped Morales build up a fortress of sorts around the fire-pit, so that the fire could be larger, and yet still hidden.<p>

Soon, darkness fell over the forest, and we all surrounded the fire; Ed was still holed up in his tent, but, besides him, everyone from the camp was enjoying that delicious fish. We even had some beer that some others had brought with them as a delicious way to wash down that hot, flaky fish. It was a dinner that I probably would have scoffed at before the world ended; and yet, after eating nothing but squirrel, rabbit, and canned food, this delicate fish was like a breath of fresh air. It was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

As we were sitting there, enjoying that delicious meat, Morales abruptly said to Dale, "I have to ask you, man—it's been driving me crazy—I see you every day, same time, winding that watch like a village priest saying mass."

Dale laughed good-heartedly and said, "I'm missing the point here."

Jacqui, who sat beside Dale, added, "Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end—at least at a speed bump for a good long while."

"But there's you," grinned Morales, "winding that stupid watch."

"Time is important to keep track of, isn't it?" defended Dale with a relaxed smile on his face. "The days, at least. I like what the father said to the son when he gave him a watch, passed down for generations and generations. He said, 'I give you a mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fill your individual needs no better than it did mine, and my father's before me. I give it to you, not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."

Smiles broke out on all of our faces at his wonderful words. I beamed at Dale, asking him quietly, "Faulkner, right?" At his nod, I just shook my head, finding myself falling in love with the wonders of literature once more.

"You are so weird," said Amy, causing a few laughs to break out in our group.

"It's not me," said Dale, laughing nonetheless. "It's Faulkner, William Faulkner." His voice trailed as he gazed into the fire, a half smile still happily lounging on his face.

Amy, still smiling at him, began to get to her feet. "Where are you going?" asked Andrea curiously.

Her younger sister rolled her eyes and replied, "I have to pee. Geez, you try to be discreet around here…"

We all giggled in her absence, and I continued to eat my fish and relax in the warmth of the fire's flames. We bathed in the companionable silence surrounding us, feeling fat and happy. It was the perfect moment, one that would hopefully never end. But those never do last, do they? All happiness must come to an end, or else life would not be what it truly was—an uphill battle against the challenges that are thrown at your feet.

Amy's screams filled the night, causing all of us to turn in surprise. The sight before me made my stomach fall to my feet—a Walker on Amy, gnawing at her arm. Suddenly, Walkers were surrounding us, roaming around and trying to catch anyone who crossed their paths. Shrieks ripped through all of us; Lori instantly bundled Carl and me into her arms, keeping close to Shane as he shot away any Walkers that wandered too close. Carol held her young daughter tightly in her arms and stayed within reach of all of us.

Shane yelled for everyone to make their way to the RV as everyone tried to battle the Walkers. Lori tried to keep me close to her, Carl, and Shane, but she didn't have enough arms, enough hands to keep us all together. My fingers clenched into her arm, probably bruising her pale skin, but I didn't worry about it, not at that moment. All I was concerned with was staying with them, and making sure that nothing happened to any of us.

Rough hands suddenly pulled at my long, thick hair, snapping my head back. A scream escaped my throat, and I was yelling for Lori, Shane, anyone who was close to help me. Lori's shrieks faintly reached my ears, but just like that I felt like there was no more sound in my life—it was silent. I felt the Walker's hands continuing to wrench my hair towards him until I was on the ground, his imposing body looming over mine. My body had tried to fight back, but it had been useless—the Walker was just too strong. I dumbly lay on the ground, waiting for my life to end right then and there.

A gunshot filled the air, making the Walker abruptly go slack and fall to the ground, completely dead. I glanced back, still in shock that I wasn't being chewed upon by the monster, when I heard a wonderfully familiar voice yelling my name. Daryl sprinted towards me as Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog began to join in the fight against the Walkers. I was still in such shock that I didn't notice the Walker coming up behind me, ready to rip me apart. Daryl reached me just in time, shoving the butt of his rifle into the Walker's head, knocking it to the ground, before shooting it in the face, spilling it's brains onto the ground.

"Emma!" Daryl shouted at me, his eyes bursting with so many emotions I couldn't even count them all. His strong hands pulled me shakily to my feet. "Get up to the RV, now! Go!" He forcefully pushed me back, while my body took too long to comprehend what had just happened. Suddenly warm arms surrounded me, and I felt myself being pulled into Lori's arms, her tears slipping into my hair. My cheeks were wet from my own tears, but I couldn't bring myself to push them away. My arms wouldn't seem to move, not even when I was silently begging them to.

Gunshots continued to fill the air, until it all finally stopped. Carl, sobbing the entire way, thrust himself into his father's arms, both of their faces slick with tears. Lori numbly walked to her husband, her face crumpling under all of the emotions running through her. I stayed where I was though, studying all of the pain, relief, and suffering surrounding me. I found Andrea cradling Amy's motionless head in her arms, blood staining the ground underneath their feet. And then my eyes found his, and life was breathed into me once more.

Daryl watched me as I slowly approached him, my body trembling with every movement. His face was unreadable, but, at that moment, I didn't care if it held nothing but revulsion—I would continue to go towards him, never stopping. Before I could even think, I shoved myself into his arms, close to collapsing from all of what had just happened before my eyes. I nearly missed the fact that his arms reluctantly encircled my waist, pressing me up against him as Daryl held me in his arms. It was the safest I had ever felt in my lifetime.

Sobs ripped through the night, and it took me minutes, maybe hours to realize that mine were mingled in with them. Throughout that time, Daryl did nothing; he just kept me so close to him that it seemed he would never let me go.

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><p><strong>Okay, I have to admit, I have been <strong>_**dying **_**to write this chapter. No pun intended, of course. Ever since I watched this episode, I knew that I was going to have Daryl save Emma, somehow, some way, and he would end up comforting her. I really, really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Wow, I honestly cannot believe how much interest there is in this story. You all have no idea how thrilled I am to see that so many of you enjoyed Emma's story so far. For now, I just want to say thank you to all of my readers who have left reviews and their kind words with me (: You all have really kept me writing this story, and loving every minute of this process! But, I won't keep you all too much longer, I'm sure you all want to read on! But, first, as always, here are my responses to all of your wonderful reviews:**

**SuzuranCrow23: **Haha, yep, that's why I love Daryl so much, he's the perfect mix of a man :D Thank you so much for your review!

**JavaNut: **You hit it on the head—that's exactly what Emma is doing to Daryl right now, even though it's scaring him to hell right now, haha. Thank you for the review!

**Dalonega Noquisi: **Glad you liked it so much! Thanks for the review!

**GypsyWitchBaby: **Yes, he does, even though he hates to admit it, lol. Thanks for the review!

**CeruleanKitten: **Haha, Daryl's just like Superman! Thanks for the review!

**85: **Aw, I'm glad you liked them both! (: I have to say, that scene makes me laugh every time I watch it. Daryl shooting that Walker head was just priceless! Oh, I promise you, you will have some of that very soon…. :D Thanks for the review!

**Alina Maxwell: **Aw, thank you so much! (:

**eloquent dreams: **Haha, yes, Daryl is so manly, that's why he's just such an attractive character on that show. Thanks for the lovely review!

**VioletViolence: **Well, first off, I'm very sorry that you haven't enjoyed my story. For the spelling and grammar, when I get the time to sit down and go through the story, I'll try to look for all those mistakes you mentioned before and fix them. Unfortunately, since I'm a full-time college student, it's a bit difficult to pick through my writing with a fine-tooth comb for mistakes. I'm also sorry that you thought my storytelling was so terrible, as well as my characters and writing. I'll do my best to improve on the points that you made. Thank you very much for the review, I appreciate your blunt honesty.

**KagHieiLuver: **Aw, thank you! (: Glad you like it so much!

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><p>The only word that could be used to describe that morning was somber, despite the clear azure sky and overpowering heat. No one spoke more than a few words at a time—they just ducked their heads down and continued on with their work. It seemed everyone was still trying to comprehend what exactly had happened the night before. Bodies of both Walkers and innocent bystanders were strewn on the ground, a constant reminder that we were all still trapped in this nightmare. There would be no waking up anytime soon.<p>

I sat on a milk crate beside my sister, who had barely let me out of her sight since the attack. Occasionally she would run her long fingers through my hair, causing my body to tremble; it would take me a few moments to remind myself that this was the hand of my sister, and not of the Walker who had tried to take me down the night before.

Carol sat alongside of us, while her daughter and Carl were sitting a good distance away, looking unable to speak. Carol's husband, Ed, had been found in his tent last night, completely slaughtered by the Walkers. Carol, for her part, showed no weakness to Sophia or anyone else; she just clutched her daughter to her side, whispering that everything would be alright. Ed's body now lay outside under the hot sun, another token from the night before.

The others worked around us, some—including Daryl—taking up the duty of effectively putting an end to the lives of those who had been lost. Everyone else just moved the bodies to the growing pile of burning bodies that filled the clearing with the sickly sweet smell of cooking flesh. I watched as Daryl swung a pick-ax into the head of a man I had never gotten the chance to meet, to learn his name or his favorite color or his hobbies. Cringing at the sound of his skull being crushed, I looked away from Daryl before he could meet my eyes. We hadn't said one word to each other since I had thrown myself into his arms; for the first time, I welcomed the silence. My head was still spinning from those events, and I wasn't ready to ask or answer any questions, not yet.

I looked up from my clasped hands when Lori wordlessly got to her feet and approached the two motionless blondes by the RV; one was lying on the ground, while the other hovered above the former. Andrea had not said a word since Amy had bitten, nor moved from that spot beside her sister. Tears pricked at my eyes as I watched Lori squat down beside Andrea, her hand tentatively reaching for the latter's shoulder. Amy's blood had soaked through Andrea's thin, white shirt, making it appear as if Andrea had been the one who had gone to battle, instead of her sister.

After giving Andrea's shoulder a squeeze, Lori returned to us; her husband, Shane, and Dale approached our trio, silently looking to Lori to see if Andrea had even bothered to speak to her. "She still won't move?" asked Rick finally, breaking the painful silence.

"Won't even talk to us," replied Lori sadly, subconsciously reaching over to caress my hair once more. "She hasn't moved all night."

"Would you, if that was me?" I said quietly, not even bothering to look up into her hazel eyes. Her hand froze and eventually removed itself.

"We can't just leave Amy there," said Shane, looking around at all of us before his eyes fell on me. "We need to deal with it, same as the others."

Rick nodded and said, "I'll tell her out it is," before beginning to walk over to where Andrea sat. Just as he bent down to speak in her ear, she whipped around, her handgun cocked in her hand, aimed straight at his head. We all froze, watching as Rick slowly put his hands up and backed away from Andrea, leaving her be.

Daryl joined out group as Rick came to stand beside Shane. "Y'all can't be serious," he said, looking around at us as if we had all lost our minds. "Letting that girl hamstring us? That dead girl's a time bomb."

"And what do you suggest?" inquired Rick tiredly. We all were exhausted—no one had even been able to close their eyes since last night.

Daryl took a step forward and replied, "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain, from here. Hell, I can hit a target in between the eyes at this distance—"

"No." My eyes were forced to meet his, and I didn't look away as I added, "We can't do that, not to Amy, not to Andrea. For God's sake, what the hell do you think Andrea will do if her sister's head is blown off right in front of her?"

He narrowed his eyes down at me, clearly biting back a harsh retort, but he just scoffed in annoyance as he stalked away. Turning to retake my seat, I overheard Daryl yelling, "Y'all left my brother for dead! You had this coming!"

Something inside of me snapped—I spun on my heel and stalked towards Daryl, who didn't even notice me approaching him. My fists slammed into his chest, shoving him backwards with a look of surprise on his face. "Stop it!" I snarled, hitting him again. Angry tears sprouted in my eyes, but I was too frantic to bother wiping them away. "Just stop it! How _dare_ you say that we had this coming—no one deserves to lose a loved one. I would have thought _you_ of all people would understand that!"

Daryl glowered down at me, his face twisted in fury. Just as he opened his mouth to shout back at me, Jacqui's voice broke through our argument. "A Walker bit Jim!" she yelled, taking a step back from him. Jim stood before her, softly whispering that he was okay, completely unaware of all of the frightened eyes cast on him now.

"Show it to us," demanded Daryl, fearlessly approaching Jim and leaving me and our fight behind him.

The others slowly began to near him as well, forcing Jim to pick up a shovel. T-Dog snuck up behind him and grabbed his arms, forcing the shovel out of his hands and leaving him vulnerable to Daryl, who shoved his shirt up. An angry red bite mark marred the side of his stomach, bright against his pale stomach.

After Jim was given the only choice of taking a seat beside the RV out of the sunlight, all of us convened in a circle to discuss exactly what to do with him. Daryl was the first to speak, saying, "I say we put a pick-ax in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it."

"Is that what you'd want, if that were you?" snapped Shane.

"Yeah," he replied, unfazed by his question. "And I'd thank you while you were doing it."

"I hate to say it," interrupted Dale, "and I never thought I'd say it, but maybe Daryl's right."

Rick shook his head and cut him off, "Jim's not some monster or a rabid dog. He's a sick, sick man. If we walk down that road, where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear," stated Daryl. "Zero tolerance for Walkers."

"We could get him help," suggested Rick, ignoring Daryl. "I heard the CDC was close to a cure."

"We heard a lot of things before the world went to hell," Shane replied, frowning at his friend.

"What if the CDC is still up and running?"

"And that is a stretch right there."

"Why?" demanded Rick. "If there's any government left, any structure at all, they would protect the CDC at all costs. I think it's our best shot—shelter, protection—"

"Okay, Rick, we want those things," said Shane calmly. "Now, if they exist, they're at the army base, Fort Benning."

Daryl was fidgeting beside me, rolling the pick-ax in his hands as the others debated where we should go. My eyes found his, and he glanced behind him at Jim, who stared blatantly back at him. Before I could say a single word to him, Daryl said quietly, "You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do." He glanced back once more and, as he began to tear towards Jim, yelled, "Somebody has to have some balls to take care of this damn—"

Rick and Shane raced after him, the former cocking his gun, pointing it at Daryl's head, while the latter stood resolutely in front of Jim, shotgun in hand. "We don't kill the living," stated Rick.

Daryl lowered his pick-ax from above his head, and glared Rick down, replying, "That's funny, coming from a man who just put a gun to my head."

"We may disagree on some things," added Shane, "but not on this. Now you put it down."

He glanced between the two men and, with a shake of his head, shoved it harshly into the ground. The man stormed off furiously; I considered trying to go after him, but his words were still too fresh in my mind. I began to follow Lori back to our seats until I noticed Dale approaching Andrea, sitting down beside her and Amy. My eyes never left the trio as Andrea finally began to speak again; it wasn't until Dale left that I got to my feet and nervously kneeled down near Amy's head.

My fingertips tentatively reached out to caress Amy's cheeks; they were surprisingly warm still, and her blood stained my skin. I refused to wipe it off, and allowed the blood to seep into my fingers. My voice failed me at first as I gazed down at Amy's pale face, hiding away her emerald green eyes. Oh, how I wished that they would open, and reveal that this had all been a painfully unfunny prank.

"After you left for Atlanta," I finally spoke up, Andrea's eyes on me now, "Amy was…a mess. She kept asking me if I thought you were safe, if you'd be coming back soon." I licked away the tears that had fallen to my lips, the saltiness pricking my taste buds. "She was only able to calm down when I swore to her that you would take down that entire city before you would allow yourself to be taken away from her."

Andrea said nothing, but I felt her gloomy eyes on me as I continued, "Ever since I met her, Amy became one of my closest friends. Andrea, you won't be the only one who will miss her—not by a long shot."

I finally allowed my eyes to meet hers, and they held so much pain and depression that I was sure someone had punched me in the stomach. A tight smile was pressed to her lips, and she gently pressed her fingers into my wrist, the closest I had ever come to receiving an embrace from her. Andrea said nothing as I gave her a weary smile before slowly getting to my feet.

The walk back to Lori was harrowing; it took me ages, it seemed, to eventually return to my sister. She wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders as I cradled my head in my hands, my cheeks soaked with tears. Only a few moments later, a gunshot rang out through the clearing, but I didn't move an inch as Andrea cradled the blown off head of her little sister.

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><p>After placing their bodies in the graves that Jim had begun burying the day before, we held a silent service for the loss of our loved ones. No one could bring themselves to speak, as words seemed useless to comfort those still in mourning. We all walked back in that same heavy, voiceless state. Carl stuck by my side, leaving his parents to speak quietly to one another about where our heading should be. When we returned back to camp, I took a seat on the cool ground, surrounded by high grass. Carl sat beside me, his eyes holding so many questions that I was sure I would never be able to answer.<p>

"What happens to people when they die, Aunt Emma?" Carl finally asked after minutes of just sitting there, forcing me to turn back to him.

I didn't reply, not at first. Instead, I kept my eyes on a dragonfly buzzing around our heads; my index finger stretched out and I kept my hand motionless until it lazily landed on my knuckle. Carl gazed at it, amazed that the dragonfly had held the courage to trust me. "I don't know, Carl," I eventually told him as the dragonfly flew away. "There are so many theories out there; I'm not sure which one to believe any more."

"But don't you believe in heaven, in God?" pushed Carl, and I glanced down at him in surprise.

I gnawed on my bottom lip as I tried to weigh my words carefully. Lori had never told Carl about my religious beliefs, since she didn't exactly approve of them herself. But, if he was asking for them, I wasn't going to turn him down like that—he would never understand the reasoning behind it. "No," I replied. "I don't. Ever since I was your age, I found it difficult to believe that there was any God who would allow so many bad things to happen to innocent people. And after all of this, I can't help but feel like I was right."

Carl frowned, but didn't reply. Smiling sadly down at him, I gently took his hand in mine, and forced his index finger out, just as mine had been moments before. "Don't move," I whispered to him as the same dragonfly approached him. Gradually, oh so slowly, the insect rested on his finger, causing a smile to break out on his face.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, another voice floated over to the two of us. "I've, uh, been thinking about Rick's plan," said Shane. I glanced over my shoulder to see him, Rick, and Dale returning from their sweep in the forest. I helped Carl to his feet, as he was still doing his best to keep the dragonfly on his finger, and approached the group. "Now look, there's no guarantees either way, I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man a long time, I trust his instincts, and I say the most important thing here is that we need to stay together. For those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning."

Everyone nodded, some hesitating while others did it immediately. The dragonfly floated away from Carl's finger suddenly, with both of our sets of eyes following as it flew into the wind, to the safety that we were still searching for.

After everyone packed up their effects and piled them into their cars, I overheard Sophia asking Carl if she and her mother could ride with him. Glancing over at the car that Rick was planning on taking, it was easy to realize that there would not be enough seats for all of them and me. I approached Lori, who was piling our tent into the trunk of the car. "Make sure Carol and Sophia ride with you guys," I told her, causing her to look up at me in confusion. "Sophia just lost her father who, despite being a scumbag, was still her father—she needs to be with Carl. He'll keep her mind off of everything."

"But there won't be enough room," pointed out Lori.

"I'll find someone else to ride with," I replied, waving away the minor tangle in my plan. "Let them ride with you guys."

As Lori nodded, Daryl passed by us, leading his brother's motorcycle over to his truck. He glanced over at me, and stated, "She'll ride with me."

Lori raised her eyebrows at me, but I just shook my head in response. Daryl and I hadn't even spoken since that morning, and I had absolutely no idea why he was even bothering to actually help me. Frowning, I followed Daryl to his truck and told him, "You didn't have to do that."

He glanced back at me briefly before turning back to the job at hand, rolling the motorcycle up a ramp into the bed of his truck. In the blink of an eye, Daryl shoved an end to a bungee cord and motioned for me to go around the right side of the truck. In my confusion, I followed his lead and helped him tie down the bike. As he began to walk away, I blew a stray red lock out of my face and shook my head at him. I swear, Daryl Dixon was the most confusing man I had ever met.

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><p>Just before we moved out of the camp, Morales and his family announced that they were leaving for Birmingham. They had a tearful goodbye with the rest of our camp—especially between their children and Carl and Sophia, who had all grown close. The young girl had even given Sophia her doll before she left, as a way to remember her. Besides them, the rest of our camp agreed to move on to the CDC, following Rick's leadership.<p>

And so we left our temporary home behind, with me sitting in Daryl's passenger seat. I curled my legs up underneath my bottom, and leaned my head against the car window. I felt Daryl's eyes glancing over at me occasionally, but I continued to look outside at the passing green fields and occasional country houses. My eyelids began to droop as the rumble of the truck's engine tries to lull me to sleep.

"I'm sorry."

I jumped at the sound of Daryl's voice, which instantly energized my senses. My eyes gazed up at him as he continued to stare at the road. His hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. "For what?" I asked him, still surprised by his random apology.

"For," began Daryl, hesitating before looking down at me briefly and continuing, "For what I said before."

I continued to watch him, amazed that he was actually saying he had been wrong. A warm smile appeared on my face as I reached over and took one of his hands in mine, squeezing it encouragingly. "Thank you," I told him honestly as he gazed down into my eyes.

My hand eventually released his, allowing him to drive once more. One detail that never got past me was that Daryl hadn't pulled away from me. He hadn't pushed me away like he would have when we first met—that buzzing thought was enough to warm me from the inside out, a rush that seemed would never fade away.

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><p><strong>Alright, so I'm sorry this took me a while to crank out, my muse has been a little bit off lately. But thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to leave a review!<strong>


	10. Chapter Ten

**Wow, once again, thank you all for the amazing reviews and feedback! I really appreciate all of it. I'm sorry that this chapter took a little longer than normal to get out, I've been so busy with college lately. But, I hope this chapter makes up for it—especially the ending ;). As always, here are my responses to all of your reviews:**

**the-autumn-leaves: **Thanks! I'm glad you like it so much so far!

**eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE: **Haha, thank you. I'm really excited to start getting into the second season-there will be _a lot_ that goes on. Thanks for the review! (:

**Jess: **Aw, I'm glad you don't think she's a Mary-Sue! I'm always worried that my characters will come off like that—I really wanted Emma to come off as someone who was just normal, you know? Thanks for the review!

**SuzuranCrow23: **Haha, yep, Emma's finally gotten to Daryl so badly that she even got him to apologize to her ;) Thanks for the review!

**Dalonega Noquisi: **It's about time that someone finally did! Haha, thanks for the review! (:

**Alina Maxwell: **Thank you for the review!

**WhisperInTheRain: **Aw, thanks! (:

**CeruleanKitten: **Wow, thank you so much! I really appreciate that you love Daryl so much, I've been trying to keep his as in-character as possible. He's definitely fun to write as, that's for sure! Thanks, again, for the review!

**Hollisterchick: **Aw, thank you! I definitely know what you mean about boring OCs—I've been trying to keep Emma interesting, but not to the point where she's unrealistic, you know? Thank you so much for the lovely review, I really appreciate it! (:

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><p>Even as we neared the streets of Atlanta, my eyes continued to glance back out the back window of Daryl's truck—I hadn't caught a glimpse of Jim in miles, and knew it was folly to assume that I had any chance of doing so. Nonetheless, my stomach was still in knots from what had just transpired in front of my eyes.<p>

Throughout our trip, it had been clear that Jim was fading fast into darkness, and there was nothing we could do about it. If anything, the bumpy road and Dale's RV was just prolonging Jim's pain, to the point where he was shrieking in agony. After being forced to pull over, Jim had made his request known to everyone—leave him behind, and let him die in peace. Despite some of our discomfort from the idea of just leaving one of our own on the side of the road, Rick and Shane agreed to Jim's request, and rested him against a lone tree, blanketing the dying man in cool shade.

It was there that we had left him, soaking in the warm air, finally satisfied with our decision. It had been difficult, to say the least, to watch as Daryl joined the rest of our caravan and left Jim alone. But we all did what we had to do in these gloomy times, despite how truly wrong it felt inside.

The rest of our drive to the CDC was spent in silence. As we passed by quaint, deserted white houses and sprawling, pale green fields, I found myself trying to decipher the tension between us. It had lingered all around us ever since the night before, when his arms had encircled me for the first time. Despite his apology from about an hour before, there was still unrest filling that truck, and I could nothing to fight it. I wasn't sure if I had maybe done something wrong to make him feel uncomfortable, or even of what kind of tension lay between us. All I knew was that it was thick enough to slice through and I just had no idea what to make of it, not yet.

Throughout all the time I had spent in Atlanta, I had never seen the CDC building. It was half-moon shaped and white, with sheets of glass wrapping around three quarters of the entire structure. The waning sun reflected off the glass, the only light that could be seen for miles and miles. Decaying corpses littered the ground surrounding the building, flies noisily feasting upon their flesh. There was no movement, except for our own.

Daryl, rifle and crossbow in hand, and I exchanged glances as we all exited our vehicles and slowly approached the CDC. The stench of rotting flesh flooded my senses, nearly making me gag. Shane kept pushing all of us forward, hissing that we keep moving and stay quiet, or else attract a swarm of Walkers. I kept close to Daryl, not wanting to stray too far away from him—in this madness, he was the only one who could truly make me feel safe.

Even from a distance, my eyes caught sight of the doors—or, well, what should have been the doors. They had dark silver gates pulled down over them, blocking anyone who dared to try and enter the sealed building. My heart fell to my feet—there was no way to get in, and no possible way to even figure out if the building was still inhabited or not.

Shane and Rick tried their hardest to pull open those gates, but it was futile—they weren't budging. Shane even banged his fist sharply on the metal, causing the sound to loudly reverberate all around us. "There's no one here," said T-Dog finally, stating the painfully obvious.

"Then why are these shutters down?" demanded Rick, his voice betraying his emotions—it was filled with concern, as all of ours probably were.

"Walkers!" Daryl suddenly shouted, making all of us turn hastily—indeed, one was lazily approaching us, with a few partners following closely behind him. Daryl took a few steps forward and shot an arrow right into the Walker's forehead, killing him instantly. He swiftly rounded on Rick, snarling furiously, "This was the wrong damn call!"

Shane loyally shoved Daryl back, growling for him to shut his mouth before turning back to his best friend. "Rick, this is a dead end," he told him bluntly. "Do you hear me?"

Rick didn't move though—Lori took her turn to try and force him to leave, saying, "We can't be this close to the city after dark."

When her husband still didn't respond, Shane added, "Fort Benning, Rick—it's still an option."

"On what?" snapped Andrea. "No food, no fuel. It's a hundred miles."

Something inside of me broke, and I nearly shouted at all of them, "Forget Fort Benning, we need to figure out _what the hell _we're going to do tonight, right now!"

"We'll think of something," Rick tried to reassure everyone, but it wasn't working. Carl was nearly sobbing in Lori's arms, and both Carol and Sophia looked as if they were about to collapse.

Shane suddenly started ushering us back to our caravan, but I noticed how Rick held back, staring up at a spot right above the gates. "Wait!" he abruptly shouted, making all of us freeze. "The camera just moved. It moved." His voice grew as my brother-in-law slowly approached the gates, his eyes unblinking as he stared up at the camera in question. Shane tried to shove him away, but he resisted, yelling and banging on the thin metal, "I know you're in there! I know you can hear me! Please, we're desperate—we have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left, nowhere else to go—"

Lori ran up to him, using all of her strength to try and drag him away from the doors. Shane quickly came to her aid, eventually forcefully shoving Rick back into our group. Just as Rick took in a breath to scream some more, the gates slammed open, revealing a bright light streaming through the fragile, glass doors, making all of us freeze.

After a moment of standing motionless, stunned at the sight of the open door, our group tentatively rushed in through the dimming light, eventually emerging into the sleek lobby of the CDC. Everything was either metal or pale, emulating a scientific atmosphere that was open to many discoveries. The lobby was empty though, and Rick's voice echoed off the bare walls as he called out for someone, anyone to answer.

I kept close to Daryl, who was pointing his shotgun at the shadows, waiting with bated breath for any sign of movement. Shane's voice vaguely reached my ears, ordering us to close the doors behind us. Just as Carol reached back to shut them, the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked erupted throughout the lobby, causing all of us to turn towards it, petrified from what we would find.

My eyes fell upon a single man dressed in casual clothes, a machine gun clenched tightly in his hands. His blonde hair was soaked with sweat, his skin pale, but his eyes remained steely and resolute as he shouted, "Anyone infected?"

"One of our group was," replied Rick, his voice trembling slightly. "He didn't make it."

The stranger slowly approached us, his gun never relaxing in his hands as he demanded, "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"A chance," said Rick simply.

"That's asking an awful lot these days," responded the man, coming even closer.

"I know," he stated.

The stranger looked around at all of our faces, clearly weighing the pros and cons of his upcoming decision. Finally, as we all waited with bated breath, he said, "You all submit to a blood test—that's the price of admission."

"We can do that," said Rick immediately, glancing around at all of us, as if waiting for some fool to refuse his request. Fortunately, no one did.

The man finally dropped his gun to his side and snapped, "If you've got stuff to bring inside, you go get it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed."

We didn't need to be told twice—some of us ran back out to the vehicles, weapons in hand in case of any trouble that could come afoot and retrieved some provisions that we deemed necessary. As soon as the last person re-entered the building, the man spoke quietly to a keypad on the wall; the gates suddenly retook their stance in front of the main doors, completely locking us in once more.

After he introduced himself—"Dr. Edwin Jenner," the not-so-stranger had said curtly without shaking Rick's outstretched hand—we were all led to an elevator, which took our group down to the underground of the CDC. The walls were white and sterile, reminding me of the many hospital rooms I had been a party of. The thin air was cold—it was a relief after suffering through so many hot, humid days out in the forest. Our footsteps echoed with each stride, a constant memory of the fact that we were, for the moment, alone with this one man.

Jenner eventually brought us to a huge, dark room that held far too many shadows for me to be comfortable with. "Vi, bring up the lights in the big room," ordered Jenner as we all entered. The fluorescent lights suddenly exploded in the room, destroying the shadows and revealing the round formation of computers and empty desks. We were standing upon a sloping platform that led to this circle of desks; underneath was a pathway that led to a destination that I could not so easily find.

"Welcome to Zone 5," Jenner said as we followed him down the desks. I glanced around the room, and felt my heart sink as I realized that we were the only ones here. There was no movement, no work being completed. There was only Jenner, who stood before us.

"Where is everyone?" asked Rick finally, a question that was weighing down upon all of us. "The other doctors, the staff."

"I'm it," replied Jenner, appearing unfazed by this revelation. "It's just me here."

Lori, who stood only a couple steps away from me, asked, "What about the person you were speaking with before?"

A rather sad smile appeared on Jenner's face as his voice echoed around the room as he yelled, "Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them…welcome."

A computerized voice suddenly came from all around us, replying, "Hello guests. Welcome."

"I'm all that's left," said Jenner. "I'm sorry." With that, he turned back to his computer, leaving all of us to absorb this harrowing discovery—there was nothing left here in the CDC, nothing that could save us from this horrific nightmare just yet.

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><p>After Jenner took our blood samples—there were fortunately no unexpected surprises from any of us—he brought us to the cafeteria and managed to scavenge together some food for us to feast upon. It wasn't anything spectacular—just some random types of pasta and canned spaghetti sauce and, most importantly, several large bottles of red wine. It was enough to make any solemn face transform into a beaming smile, including my own.<p>

Soon we were all stuffed with heavy food and giddy from smooth alcohol, silly and giggling at the dumbest of stories. Carl even tried a glass of wine, which resulted in a scrunched up face in disgust and laughs from all of us. Daryl even joined in, joking with Glenn that he wanted to see how red his face could get as he drank.

As I had reached to once again fill my wine glass with some of the delicious liquid, I felt Daryl smirking slightly down at me. "What?" I had asked, laughing at his strange expression.

"You drink wine so prissily," he snickered, motioning to my grip of the wine glass and, in the process, stole the bottle right out from under my nose.

My eyebrows rose in response; I suppose that, after taking so many wine tastings throughout culinary school, my drinking stance had perfected itself over the year. No one had ever commented on it so bluntly before though. A playful smile appearing on my lips now, I replied, "Excuse me for being the only sophisticated wine drinker present." At the couple outbursts of protest from my companions—"You're such a snob, Emma," joked Lori—and the laughter from Daryl, I simply rolled my eyes and grabbed the bottle from him, taking a long swig from it. "Is that better for you?" I asked him coolly, the grin still bright on my face.

Daryl just laughed once more, snatching the bottle from me and unabashedly drinking right after me. He grinned at my wrinkled nose, and I felt my own smile growing at the sight of his happy face. My heartbeat began to race, forcing my eyes away from his before he could catch my flushing cheeks. It was a rush I was still trying to get used to, an unfamiliar sensation that made my toes tingle and my skin warm at the slightest of prodding.

"So when are you going to tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?" asked Shane, his sharp voice shattering the fragile bubble of cheer that had been growing around us. "Where are all the doctors that are supposed to be figuring out what happened?"

"We're celebrating, Shane," interrupted Rick, a stern expression growing on his face. "We don't need to do this now."

"Well, wait a second," he replied, his eyes glancing at Rick briefly before returning to Jenner, "this is why we're here, right? This was your move to find all the answers and, instead, we found him." A sarcastic laugh escaped Shane, causing a frown to come to my face. His eyes were slightly bloodshot from the wine—it clearly wasn't affecting him like it had been changing the rest of us. "We found one man—why?"

Jenner hesitated, clearly weighing his words carefully before he began, "Well, when things started going bad, a lot of people just started leaving to be with their families. And, when things got worse and the military got overrun, the rest bolted."

"Every last one?" asked Shane snidely.

"No," replied Jenner quietly. "Many couldn't face walking out the door. They…opted out. There was a rash of suicides. It was a bad time."

Andrea's eyes never left Jenner's face as she said, "You didn't leave. Why?"

"I just kept on hoping to do some good," said Jenner, and his voice slowly faded as his eyes turned away from all of us.

A tense silence filled the room, one that made my skin crawl with discomfort. Glenn finally broke it by voicing my own thoughts, mumbling aloud to Shane, "Dude, you are such a buzz-kill."

* * *

><p>My eyes never left the ceiling above me as I lay on top of the uncomfortable couch. A thin blanket had been given to cover my limbs, but I had kicked it away only moments before. I was determined to absorb as much as this air conditioning as possible—who knew how long I would be able to enjoy it.<p>

Carol's soft snores mixed with Sophia's quiet breathing in the silent room. I glanced over at the slumbering pair, curled around one another so closely that it was difficult to decipher whose limb belonged to whom. They had been my assigned roommates, since there were only so many rooms for all of us to share. It was a perfectly fine decision, really—they were quiet sleepers, and didn't bother me with endless small talk before bed. They would just occasionally whisper to each other before they both dozed off into a deep slumber.

As for myself though, I could not bring myself to sleep. Jenner's words kept running through my mind, of how people had given up so easily on life and taken the simple way out. The idea was ridiculous to me; how could one just quit on their loved ones and the human beings surrounding them, just because life had thrown some challenges at them. Wasn't that all apart of having a life? You just took one challenge at a time, doing your best to beat them every time. If you didn't, you learned from your mistakes and moved on. But it seemed that not everyone perceived this lesson so easily.

I shifted on my make-shift bed, my thoughts roaming towards the man probably sleeping across the hall from our room. I had accidentally run into Daryl just after I left the shower, my damp, tangled hair already soaking through my dark t-shirt. My words seemed to tumble from my lips in snarled batches, nearly spoiling my attempt to simply tell him good night. Finally, I had managed to wish him sweet dreams before stumbling into the bedroom, my cheeks flaming and my heart pounding in my chest. I had never felt this way with anyone, especially not with someone like Daryl. It was as if I was back in high school and being giddy over some boy. It was so unfamiliar and strange, I was sure I was close to losing my mind.

In the past, I had been rather decent with relationships and feelings for the opposite sex. There had been an occasional boyfriend, but it normally ended with us just remaining friends, or a mutual separation. With all of them, though, there hadn't been that spark that so many people dreamed of. There was no chemistry or passion to any of my relationships. But, with Daryl, even when I was frustrated with him, my heart raced rapidly and my entire being was out of my control. There was this longing inside of me that I could not push away any longer and try to ignore. It was there, lingering in my heart as it whispered in my ear that, while Daryl wasn't what I had dreamed of when I was a little girl, no one had ever risked his life for my own so many times. Nobody had ever made me feel this way before.

Frustrated with this new revelation, I pushed my body up off the sofa and silently left the room. I needed some of that fluorescent light in the corridor to wake my body up, to stop my mind from continuing to dawdle on Daryl Dixon. But now, as I stood with my arms crossed over my chest near Daryl's door, a desire broke out inside of me to at least try knocking on the door, to see if he was awake.

Allowing my instincts to take over, I shyly approached the door and softly rapped my fist against the wood three times. I had been so sure that he would never answer, that he was deep in pleasant sleep, that I was honestly startled when the door was thrust open, revealing the man who had been plaguing my mind for many nights now.

Daryl's dark hair was still damp from the shower, the pearls of water clinging to the occasional strand. It was messy, as if he had been shifted on a pillow many times, but his eyes were wide awake. Clearly I was not the only one who had found difficultly in falling asleep. "You alright?" he asked me, somewhat startled that I was still awake at this hour.

Taking a deep breath, I untangled my tongue and replied, "I'm not sure." Daryl frowned down at me, but said nothing, watching as my fingers knotted together anxiously. "I, uh, can't sleep," I finally finished, cringing at the lame tone of my voice.

Daryl still said nothing. I wanted to shake him, to force him to reply to me, to find something to say. Eventually finding the courage to meet his eyes, I was startled by the slight spark of amusement held in his eyes. And, in those usually guarded, dark blue eyes, I found other emotions that I had not been privy to before—intense feelings that I was sure were reflected in my own pale green eyes.

My nerves eventually began to settle at this discovery, and I felt my body nearing his. My hands found his face, his unshaved skin tickling my fingertips. Daryl didn't even seem surprised by my movements, as if he had been expecting them all along. Standing on my toes, I finally allowed my instincts to fully take over my body: my lips met his, movement sparking between us. His hands tangled in my red hair, shoving my flesh against his. My hands moved from his face to his neck, dragging him even closer.

Oh, there was that spark that I had always been dreaming of. I had only found it in the most unexpected, unintended place imaginable—within Daryl Dixon's arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so you guys got a little something extra in this chapter ;) I hope you all enjoyed the developments in Daryl and Emma's relationship, and that this was all worth the wait! Thank you again for reading, and don't forget to review! Hope everyone had a wonderful Easter!<strong>


	11. Author's Note

**To my beloved readers,**

**First off, I'd like to apologize for my three month long hiatus; I've currently transferred colleges and moved up north, which has taken up a huge chunk of my time. I know so many of you have been waiting for my return, hoping that I would continue with this story. I am sorry to say that I will not. **

**My muse for Emma has sputtered out. It has been replaced with one for another character that I have been thinking of lately, of someone who is not, in my eyes at least, such a Mary-Sue as Emma is. So, I will be coming out with a new story on her life in the Walking Dead universe. As this story was, it will also be Daryl/OC—I could never lose my muse for him. Please keep an eye out for the upcoming chapters for this story, and I hope you all will enjoy it. **

**Thank you all for being so loyal, for sticking with this story for so long. I'm truly sorry that I will not be able to conclude this story, but I hope you all understand that I didn't want to write a story that wouldn't have any life to it. Again, thank you all. **

**Sincerely, **

**Nicole**


	12. Author's Note Part 2

**Just so you all know, I have officially posted the first chapter of my new story. If you are at all interested, please go ahead and take a look. I hope you all enjoy it!**


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